Feed the brain

I had the gym to myself this morning. It was my first trip in…I don’t dare say how long. Had the chance to clear my head. Kill my sleepiness. And feel generally, as though I was doing me and my body a real good favour. Now, I know a lot of people have a lot of bad things to say about gyms, and I believe they have a fair point. I am not a great lover of the airless pods, banging out the top ‘tunes’ and having you work those muscles without really going anywhere. If I had the choice, I would be climbing kayaking and abseiling and caving and hiking to get my daily exercise fix. With any luck it won’t be that long before I’m able to do some of these things on something of a regular basis. I would much rather be watching the clouds from the side of a fuck off giant cliff and breathing ‘real’ air. Believe you me.

My room has been, of late, one hell of a tip. Primarily, because there hasn’t been enough times in the day to knuckle down with the duster and ‘don’t need’ detector. Mess, I mean, proper mess affects my writing and my general wellbeing. You might think I’m being over dramatic. I’m not. It makes sense I think. I can’t work properly on a desk teetering with notebooks, cups and random post its, receipts and torn paper with something of significance scrawled on them. But now, I can see the dark wood, and find my pen, and have a drink of water without knocking stuff to kingdom come. And I can focus properly. The only thing distracting me is the Scarlet Johansson picture blue taked to the wall in front of me. If I can learn to keep my eyes down, I’ll be fine.

 

Books. I have eight of the buggers I’d ideally like to get through before I up sticks and move out of Carlisle the first week of February. They’re neatly stacked next to my bed and are calling…It’ll be very, very interesting (well, for me it will be) to see how many I manage to get through in under a month. Let the game begin.

 

 

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