At some point last night I began to get the sense that a cold was heading my way and at about 1am it entirely engulfed me! I kept waking up in the night unable to breathe and the dreams I was waking up from were becoming increasingly surreal...
I've felt like death all day, which feels a terrible shame as it's Midsummer and the weather is absolutely glorious. I would love to be in Avebury or Cambridge or on the Heath, drinking in the sunset, but instead I'm limping to the local kebab shop, with aching limbs, feeling lonely and rather sorry for myself.
I've managed a day of writing, albeit from the sofa, so at least the day doesn't feel entirely wasted. From now on my task is to write two minutes of orchestral music every day. If I keep this level of intensity up, I'll have broken the back of Brass by the end of the month. That's the theory in any case!
I did at least find time to marvel at how light it still was at 9.30pm. I think it's vital that we mark the seasons by noticing this sort of thing.
I sat and stared at the man in the kebab shop grilling me some halloumi and using a pair of tongues covered in terrible bits of meat, but was too much in a daze to say anything. I just felt horribly sick instead.
On the bright side, at least the problem with our ghastly alleyway smell seems to gave been solved. My neighbour reports workmen appearing in the offending flat's garden, who, when questioned, confirmed our worst fears, that the smelly water seeping through the wall was indeed sewerage. But, for the past two days, there's been no gunk, so something has obviously been sorted out.
I touch wood. I touch wood. I genuinely did just touch wood as well!!