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Distant and Cold or Scared and Tired?

For reasons that I shan't go into, I feel empty today. The garden is coated with dew, and the weeds are taking over, fighting with the overlong grass for supremacy. I can't go out there to fix it all, not only because I am a fair weather gardener, but because I am still recovering from this damned operation. It's overcast and dreary again, which really I should expect for October; where are the stunningly beautiful cold autumn days? I would almost want to go outside then...

Chores seem to be lining up in regiments against me. Paperwork, cleaning, recycling and laundry each has its own specific attack patterns and strategies to convince me that, really, playing Alpha Centauri or reading Foucault's Pendulum would be a much nicer thing to do. But I can't. The expense claim form is there, sitting in the corner of my eye under the awe 64 soundcard like a reminder that I still have to do this boring thing called work, that, yes, I still am a member of the human race.

I need inspiration for stories to write. Just short stories, a few thousand words. Can anybody help me? Just some characters, plots or situations? Please? my email address is on my homenode

There are so many small noises here in my little house: I can hear the tick of the clock by the dead plant near my kitchen, the hum of the computer by my feet, the odd tiny hissing of my refrigerator, the creak of this cheap chair I am sitting on and the flurry-pause-flurry typing on this ergonomic keyboard. Each of these seems to fade away into the background as my brain concentrates on more important things like replying to emails sent yesterday and worrying about seeing katyana in a couple of weeks time.

18 days to go...

17:05 BST

Thank goodness for Goretex

Well, that was a stupid idea: Lurching my way to the local supermarket on my crutches while it was raining so hard. Thankfully I had my orange waterproof walking jacket thingy on, which withstood the worst the elements could throuw at me. I bought a new CD of dance music and some Dr Pepper. Walking home with a six pack of fizzy dangling from one crutch was an experience I had allowed myself to forget - your arm gets tired very quickly and the bag keeps wrapping itself around the shaft of the crutch. Well, I survived my little expedition.

Hmm, typical: The rain has just stopped, 10 minutes after I get home. Well, at least this CD is OK for cheesy mainstream dance music.


It is The Ibiza Annual, a ministry of sound mix by Judge Jules and Tall Paul. It has all the mainstream favourites like Bullet in the Gun, Time to Burn and Zombie Nation... Tunes, every one, but so cheesy!