I woke up this morning with back ache yet again. I’m hoping that my follow-up appointment with the osteopath tomorrow will nip that particular problem in the bud because it's nudging into the zone of slightly worrying.
I’m feeling rather listless and dissatisfied at the moment. We’re half way through January and I feel as though I haven’t really achieved anything. I’ve sent a few pitches out. I’ve read a number of books about The Thames. I’ve had meetings with a few people, but I have nothing tangible to show for the first 16 days of the year. Because I’m not being active enough, the days are rather flitting away. I feel like I’m vanishing in a cloud of steam.
There’s nothing else to report, really. I spent the entire day reading what turned out to be the most intensely boring book about the River Thames ever written. Essentially, it was an in-depth essay about the docklands with a yard-by-yard account of every single warehouse which had lined the river in 1934. Dry as toast, and yet I persisted.
Cas the rat is ill again. The poor tyke is bleeding from his tumour and we’ve decided to risk the operation to have it removed. Essentially, he’s unlikely to wake up from the anaesthetic, but at the same time unlikely to live for much longer with the tumour growing on a daily basis. Having been through the trauma of Poll the rat being euthanized with an injection which hurt him and made his last moments a hideous panic, we’ve decided we’d rather Cas died in an operation, which will afford him the luxury of having his anaesthetic administered by gas in a special tank. He’s a strong lad. He may just survive.
On that note, I shall return to my cloud of steam. With any luck there’ll be more to report tomorrow!