A river of thoughts snakes through a strange landscape under a pale moon, and that river is me: Sometimes deep and fast, sometimes slow and dreamy, with secret currents that can warm or chill. Spend a while on my banks and dangle your feet in my waters. I am also the snake and the moon. And maybe a poet.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Later in the evening (20.40 GMT). The gym session was good - 4.5km in 30 mins on the cross-trainer, a few weights and a 1km row. Meal less successful despite all the thinking. Sole ok, but sauce disappointing. Washed down with white wine. Soon going into town again to met up with friend just back from Taiwan. Must keep beer intake to low level given work tomorrow. The good thing about Monday is that before you know it, it is already Wednesday again. Get through day thinking of having my tea in front of my favourite soaps. How sad is that? Too much time spent in meetings on Mondays - now that is sad!
This is a new venture for me and I am not sure yet what I want to achieve. It is good to have somewhere to record my thoughts, something I have been doing for many years in a succession of varying sized notebooks, now in varying states of disrepair. A bit like me I suppose, with the passing of years.
It is a Sunday. Yesterday did not really exist for me, recovering as I was from Friday night out on the town. It wasn't the plan, but then I chose to go with the flow. I got as far as the newsagents.
The stimulus for starting now was really my son (Tim, 19) who said goodbye last night as he and two friends set off for gap year adventures in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam - names that hold potent memories from when they were in the news throughout the 1970s. He has set up a blog site to keep us updated with his progress. It is naturally a worrying time for parents left behind, but it is an important rite of passage. For me, it was 4 months hitch-hiking around Europe in 1973 - no mobile phones, no internet cafes, only the vagaries of the local postal services.
I feel there is so much to say, so many personal thoughts about my emotional situation, but these can wait. I think I will get in a session at the gym. I seem to spend the time there thinking about what I am going to have for my evening meal. Lemon sole tonight but not sure yet how to prepare it. Fried in butter sounds tempting. Maybe with a creamy sauce. And new potatoes. Can life really be this exciting all the time?
It is a Sunday. Yesterday did not really exist for me, recovering as I was from Friday night out on the town. It wasn't the plan, but then I chose to go with the flow. I got as far as the newsagents.
The stimulus for starting now was really my son (Tim, 19) who said goodbye last night as he and two friends set off for gap year adventures in Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam - names that hold potent memories from when they were in the news throughout the 1970s. He has set up a blog site to keep us updated with his progress. It is naturally a worrying time for parents left behind, but it is an important rite of passage. For me, it was 4 months hitch-hiking around Europe in 1973 - no mobile phones, no internet cafes, only the vagaries of the local postal services.
I feel there is so much to say, so many personal thoughts about my emotional situation, but these can wait. I think I will get in a session at the gym. I seem to spend the time there thinking about what I am going to have for my evening meal. Lemon sole tonight but not sure yet how to prepare it. Fried in butter sounds tempting. Maybe with a creamy sauce. And new potatoes. Can life really be this exciting all the time?
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