Moving on Up

Day Three of my bullet-sized antibiotics and I can most definitely state an improvement in both mental and physical health. Yes, there was still coughing in the night and I had to sleep with a pillow mountain to keep myself upright but otherwise, a distinct shift forward in recovery. At least part of that movement was due to a sports massage which I dragged myself in for yesterday, and which proved to be the biggest revelation of all. I though that lying on my front would be impossible, but as my masseuse pointed out, there’s less surface area of lung under pressure than being on your back. The amount of crap that came out of my lungs afterwards, and the two hours sleep I then managed as a result have been instrumental in recovery.

That means today I will be going for a PT session, though I suspect cardio is out of the window. It does mean I will be doing SOMETHING: the lack of physical exertion has been real cause for concern, as it is now a week since I did anything of note. I’m looking at the subzero temperatures however and deciding, at least until I’m fully recovered, that I will not be walking to the Gym. It is proper taters out there, and so I can remember this for future reference, that means COLD. I went and checked on the Internets: taters (potatoes in the mould) is a reference to the time when potatoes were buried in a heap to protect against frosts like these. There was a lot of Cockney rhyming slang in my youth, and this is one piece I’d like to maintain.

This therefore is your reminder that yup, I’m alive and improving, and some actual content might break out here in the next few days. Carry on.

Rip It Up

Okay, that challenge was really optimistic. I couldn’t even walk yesterday, and this morning I own antibiotics as thick as my little finger. As a result of this, for the first time since May, I’m had to cancel a PT Session, and to say I am gutted is an understatement. I have the energy, just not a working set of lungs. Once I’ve fixed that (and removed all the other issues with my throat) we’ll restart the #50Ksin50Days thing because that’s a really cool thing to do and I’d like to complete it.

For now, this is me back to a measure of normality, off to start the re-write of my first 50k OF WERDS as I was going to do on Saturday, and returning you to regularly scheduled faffing.

King of Pain

Dear God, body, what did I do to deserve this? I coughed my way through the night and I’ve coughed my way through the entirety of the morning and yet, I feel great. In fact, this is the best I’ve felt for several weeks despite I did sleep in pieces, and I sweated so much that I could wipe myself down at 5am. So, I went to the Gym and I tried, but there’s nothing doing. However, I still did a kilometer, because there are now principles at play that require me to at least make an effort.

DAY #1 :: 1km (6.0 kph power walk)

Knew this would be impractical but having started yesterday I refuse to then give up because that fucking sucks. There was so much coughing and just inability to function that I’ve now come home and gone full-on self-care mode. Lots of heat in my throat, and just taking it easy in the hope I’ll wake up tomorrow and feel better.

Enjoyment Factor: 2/10. I however went and did it. I’m now sitting with a hot wheat wrap around my throat and honey/lemomgrass/ginger in a teacup, trying to get my body to stop stressing.

Let’s hope that this is the worst over with and I’ll feel better tomorrow.

Still Alive

Yeah, I’m still here. If you read the Words Blog you’ll know that I’ve done the NaNoWriMo thing a few days early because… well, I just want to write fiction right now and am not that fussed about keeping the World up to date. I still love you guys, but this cough will not budge and it is making sleep a bit of a problem, and it also making exercise or walking anywhere in the cold an exercise in pain. So, I decided to do something utterly stupid about it this morning, because I am mad, me.

#50Ksin50Days was born.


It’s the most consumptive, consumerist 50 days of the year ahead of us, and the period where most people make resolutions and try and be fit. So, I think maybe I just cut through all the crap and forget the ‘oh I’ll wait until after Xmas’ bollocks and just get on with running 1k, every day, for 50 days. I might have to job some, there might be days when fast walking is involved, but the brief is simple. Even on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, I need to run one kilometre SOMEWHERE. What it then does is focus my mind on the process of how I run, and how it happens. It will be an exercise in persistence and application, and if you like, you can join me.


Let’s face it, 2016 has been utterly shit, and I think it is time I took the whole fucking year by the balls and showed it who’s boss. So, here we go: I’m starting on a Friday, I have no ceremony, but for the next 50 days? I’ll have summat to write about.

DAY #1 :: 2km (mixed 7.0 kph jog and 6.0 kph power walk)

Okay, so I start with two, but as only one counts per day, that’s fine, but it gave me a chance to cough continuously at the Gym with an audience. Lots of asthma drugs taken. Did it on two treadmills as I swapped after warm-up to go and hack up a lung in the Ladies. My feet feel extra bouncy in new running shows, and even though I could not breathe, I had plenty left in the legs at the end.

Enjoyment Factor: Even with cough and bleurgh, this was an 8/10. Once upon a time I’d have gone back to bed after the start to the day I had (locked myself out of the house) but instead, I went out and STARTED A THING.

Here’s to the next 49 days.


Nothing Left Tolouse

I don’t want it to be more than one day since I post something personal. However, I really have no desire to talk about myself right now, except I think I probably ought to. I’m really not doing anywhere close to a decent fist at communicating with either family and friends, and I know why. It isn’t just because I’m totally immersed in a story I now need to tell, but also because hormonally I am in a  fucking mess. It isn’t just the early morning wake-ups because of the heat, but now it is hormones getting angry in a way I only remember from the most brutal of menstrual months, the ones where I’d be reduced to tears because I couldn’t adequately communicate. I never learnt to do it then, and now I’m suffering.

I’m sorry I’m not my normal cheery self. I apologise that the Real World is making me cross. I hate that so much of what I want to do is out of my hands or is happening so slowly it is frustrating the life out of me. I’m trying not to start fights or stoke fires, but sometimes it just happens, and most importantly of all I’m trying to do things that don’t involve me ranting at nutters online. That’s why I’m spending more and more time in my made up world and less time in gaming, because my fuse for people’s persistant complaint has pretty much burnt out.

Most of all, I’m looking for people who understand, when a lot of people are just here for my ‘brand’ and frankly, that’s the last thing I really want to do. I’m really sorry if you’re here and expecting more, but right now, I have nothing left to give you.

This story is what I really need to do. If you can understand, that would be awesome.

New Life

I tell my kids, quite a lot, that until they’re both 18 I get the rap if they screw up. The truth of course is that that’s not 100% accurate, but close enough if I can’t get them out of bed to attend full-time education, or they wanna bring the sass when I need them co-operating. Choice is a Harsh Mistress [TM] and yeah, absolutely a woman. Male choice is black or white, DUH, and we get all the shades of grey, and there are considerably more than 50 of those fuckers. A lot of people I come into contact to seem to think that, as a result of the events of the last 6-8 months, that their choice is no longer their own to dictate. Newsflash, Kids: it never was yours to begin with. You can never have everything your way, however hard you try. You could have all the money in the world, the most desirable person on the planet on your arm, but there’s always a But. The Orange Man is learning this lesson, whilst at the same time trying to deflect interest away from the fact he’s been a twat for decades, and now EVERYBODY is suddenly all over his business.

If you want true control of your life, stop interacting with EVERYBODY else.

There is a PHENOMENAL amount of stupid about, ALL THE TIME. The current climate has not suddenly created all this, it existed long before the US Elections, years before Brexit. All these people telling you how fascism is suddenly everywhere and the press can’t call people Nazis even when they obviously are is as much of a deflection of reality as that bloke getting schooled in a Theatre or those Arctic Ice values. The reality is this moment, that second, and then the next one, and the moment you find yourself within. You cannot control anything, at all, except probably a 10 foot circle around you. That is where your only real notion of control exists, and as more people register this and unfriend everyone on Facebook, this makes a bad situation worse. Shutting down isn’t how this gets fixed. However, the truth remains that this is the only way you will remain on top.

Knowing this, it is time to be tough over just about everything.

Balance is never easy, but right now it is something that more people could do with considering. Yes, you can curate your timelines, nobody is telling you to listen to hatred. What you have to balance that with is the understanding that if you shut out everything negative, you won’t get an accurate picture of reality. Yes, you’re completely within your rights to pretend that half of your country does not exist, but by doing so you will eventually become the exact thing you have sworn to hate. Intolerance does not have an affiliation, or a colour. It is everywhere, if you allow it a foothold, and thinking you are somehow beyond all this? You’re really utterly not.


From the Independent Online

The reality of this existence, right now, is that everyone is narrating your timeline. EVERYBODY suddenly has a relevant, significant voice, more so than at any point in the last decade. It does not matter these people may be unreliable, if enough of them get together you’re fucked or saved, often simultaneously. Yes, the Republicans are secretly celebrating you’re all up in arms over that thing in the Theatre because then nobody notices the Orange Man paid out 25 MILLION DOLLAR to sweep a problem under a rug which is gonna have quite a lump under it, even before the year is out. For every panicky, OMG THIS IS BAD message being broadcast there’s a billion other people not giving a fuck coz they’re tweeting in a language your phone keyboard won’t support without a reboot. It is not just your Planet, until it’s beyond fucked, and then everybody will look for someone else to blame except themselves. Yup, this is gonna be hard times ahead. You can cope. You just need to remember that you can make a difference.

Yeah, little old you.

Before you RT stuff, check validity for yourself. Make an effort to read something other than the same newspaper every day. Expand your mind by occasionally letting people you disagree with argue around you. Work out what you think is right and wrong and then amend that every day you wake up. Don’t stay stuck in the same mindset, even if that’s the only way you’re surviving, because in the end you will simply become a version of the thing you already detest. YES THERE ARE BAD THINGS HERE. Nobody is trying to claim otherwise. What you need to take from all of this is that the truth is never just what you think it is. There’s always a basement door, a jail cell or an escape route with guns blazing. Some days, hiding is an an answer, but it’s not going to help in the long term. Trust someone who did that for years, and now grasps that however much you’d like someone else to help, the only person who solves your problems is you.

Do what you need to survive, and if you can help yourself in the process? So much the better.

Running Scared

I’ve not mentioned exercise much this week, but it has happened three times, including walking to and from the Gym every time. I’ve also made a concerted shift on from my normal ‘routine’ and begun every session with the use of an Inhaler, before running 1K in the best time possible. Today, I did it in 7.19, which is an eleven second improvement on the start of the week. As I don’t do numbers, it is largely irrelevant, but the difference required to make up those eleven seconds is enough to push everything I do from now on further forward. Stamina is still an issue, I need more energy than I can currently command, and that probably will involve a further redefinition of what is eaten during any give day. However, there are distinct improvements to report not simply in times.

I’m able to not think about push ups now: every exercise I do requires at least some notion of mental as well as physical effort. Running especially currently involves me not panicking, concentrating just about being serene and not allowing my breathing to run away (^^), making an effort not to lose the plot. In the beginning I had to push my arms through every single repetition of a push up, but now the first set of 12 is an impulse, no effort at all. Once I get to 36 the thought needs to be reengaged, I have to push those last few, but this is new territory. There has never been a point previously where I could just drop and do it without the backup, and that is most definitely progress.


My coat I bought last year, that was loose at the top and tight at the bottom, now works the other way. My waist is shrinking and the arms are growing, so much that pushing certain sleeve tops past my elbows is impossible. It takes considerably less steps to get to and from the Gym, which means making up 12k is becoming harder, despite me getting physically fitter. It will mean rethinking my trip to and from the Gym, and I’ll stick a longer way there starting Monday to make up the shortfall. Skin is suffering because of Winter weather and hormonal changes too, and I should make some time to try and address that. Finally, I could really do with some new underwear, because COME ON COMFY PANTS.

Oh, yeah, and that grand plan to write about NaNoWriMo went out the window when I grasped just how all-consuming this was going to be. 40k’s coming up and I’m probably a third of a way through my plot. I’ve spent as much time as I can writing and maybe I could have done more physical work this week but honestly, with my lack of sleep, it’s been just fine at this level. In fact, with my current state of fatigue now, more physical effort would probably have buggered me being able to write at all. Trying to balance all of this is not nearly as easy as I imagined it would be. I start things and radically underestimate exactly what will be required to complete them, every single time.


However, most significantly of all things this week, the Bond is done. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud of something as I am of that, even if it will never make me a penny. It is my attempt to counter gravity that is both inescapable and suffocating, that allowing a woman into this Boys Only club is never ever likely to happen in my lifetime, because Bond’s a metaphor for so much that people don’t ever want to change. I’ll be happy to stand by that story until I die, because I made a point, and I did it well. If you want to read it, it starts here, and I’ll have a PDF of it up next week if you wanna take it in one hit.

Even if I never better this, it is for me part of what I’ve promised to do moving forward. I work hard, it gets easier and maybe one day someone will notice that I did something great.

I can but hope.