Being proactive so as not to mope. So far this morning I have hung three pictures, rehung the clock that had to be moved, filled two bin bags with rubbish and packed a bag of unwanted books for the charity shop.

Yesterday, horribleness aside, I spent the morning helping Open City London unload 843 boxes from trucks into their building. 843 boxes full of boxes and weighing more than one of my class. I then helped them reload the trucks with 720 boxes of old books that were down in the cellar.

Today I ache like an achy thing and I'm meant to be going to lunch with some-one from school (so that I can rant if needed).

Well, yesterday was quite awful, but time to move on.

Having lost the whole day to an argument that escalated from ridiculous to just plain nasty and then working myself up so my body ran out of sugar and I crashed, I am today of the opinion that I don't need that person in my life any more than he needs me, so it's for the best that they have gone.

Today will be filled with manual labour and such when I'd much rather be curled up in bed since I feel bloody awful.

Managed to sleep until 5am, but that may be because everyone fed me yesterday and I was simply too full to move.

Today I am off to London where there may be lunch and will definately be a lot of pottering.

This should have had the soundtrack of some heavenly choir and point the way to the Ark, but generally you could just hear crickets going mad on the neighbouring field and it pointed to a tree.


Lots of these.


The ford, full of children, and St. Martin's Church.


Interior of afore mentioned church.

Having been asked by various family and friends what I want to mark my turning 37 (besides a general look of amazement that I haven't managed to explode myself) and coming up with little more than a shrug (because "my own Watson" is met with "yeah, but really?") my family have given up and gone : "Right, day of Sherlock Holmes in London" which oddly includes Tate Britain, but I think that's pandering to my Hogarth obsession on the side. So, that was how I spent Wednesday.

I'm not going to argue. There is no bad with London and I have learnt over the past two weeks to ignore the Olympics in the same way that I can ignore the sparkly vampires and 50 Shades books that I am surrounded by at work, on buses and on trams.

Thursday was spent in Eynsford, which is very countrified and nice and then I was stupid and went bell ringing for the first time in 15 months which has left me in a lot of pain.

Yesterday was a quick run to the skate shop to buy a birthday present for Lukey who turns 14 on monday and then a lot of taking pain meds and pottering around the house.

No nightmares last night, which is a first for a while and I don't know how much this is to do with having got a lot of my paperwork out of the way. Very odd dreams though, but not screaming nightmares. Just confusion.

Today will include hoovering, laundry, London, a pub and then scribbling which I have dramatically failed in doing.

High point of the week - Finding out that I actually had three weeks of holiday left instead of the two I thought it was.

Very much in a "The world can piss right off!" sort of mood.

I suppose I have to applaude my unconscious mind for being creative in the way it terrorises me but it is exhausting.

Last night was new, as most of the recent ones have been. No getting lost or trapped or performing CPR quite uselessly. Last night's was just nasty and while I didn't wake screaming I did wake with my heart trying to beat its way out of my ribcage and a huge sense of dread. Also, a dislocated shoulder and bruised knuckles.

Dear nightmares,

I don't want to dream about git face or being attacked.

Dear body,

Calm the fuck down. We've been awake for ten minutes so we should be breathing normally and lowering the pulse.

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So far this morning I have worked out the scheme of work for ICT, PE and Listening for next academic year and nearly sorted my day plans.

I need a life!