My sleep patterns are predictably all over the shop. I woke up at 4 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Finally at 5.30 I gave up trying and went out on to the balcony to catch up on my blogs. A mosquito nipped at my shins, though I would have my revenge later when I squashed him on the bathroom wall. Though to be fair,it might have been a different one. But the one I got had just bitten me or my girlfriend because I saw the blood. So I count that as a score draw.
But the other mosquitos did not learn from this bloody display and continued to attack throughout the day, like bloody-minded and bloody-bellied terrorists. What do they want? Blood?
We can never defeat them. They will just keep coming back at us. I turned that one mosquito into a martyr. Three or four mosquito generations have probably passed since this morning and still the mosquitos talk about his sacrifice. He may even be the mosquito Jesus. He drinks blood, but it turns into wine.
The weather remained grey today, but it's mainly just incredible to relax and read and have nothing to do. We sat on loungers on a lawn overlooking the sea, where every now and again staff from the hotel brought us water or cold towels or smoothies. It's utterly luxurious. The sun came out for about 2 minutes at midday and even in that short window of opportunity felt almost unbearably hot. I think I almost prefer it overcast and warm.
I felt stupidly content. It's been all go this year, almost without exception and to have a fortnight of this ahead of us makes me feel ridiculously fortunate. And much as it's easy to complain and bitch in the middle of a heavy workload (not that I ever do that, right?), I do appreciate how fucking jammy I am to be making a living doing something I love and to be doing well enough at it to be able to afford to do something as decadent as this. Having worked hard for it just makes it more enjoyable. I like to think that the other posh nobs who are staying at this hotel have had everything in their lives handed to them on a platter and I am the only one who has worked myself up from the Cheddar slums to get here. I am, of course, deluded in every degree. But it's nice to think that and it takes off the little edge of guilt that would otherwise be eating me up!
I thought of myself as a child, who loved telling jokes and writing stories (about the Men of Phise and the Thriling Three) and how thriled he would be to know that he could carry on doing those things his whole life. Writing stories was my favourite thing as a kid and here I am at 44 and still doing it. It got me thinking about how much of who we are is innate. Jokes and stories (with some religion mixed in) was always what I was about. And it's got me here, lying on a lounger with a little flannel that's been in the fridge, with some eucalyptus on it. Writing stories would one day pay off for me, in the long run. Though thinking about it, I would eventually monetize the stories I was writing even then (in Christ on a Bike). Those first stories taken as a proportion of my earnings from that show probably paid for this holiday. Thanks 7 year old Richard Herring. I sent you to work so that I might relax. Is that still exploitation of child labour?
The blogs are all going to be this kind of stream of consciousness showing off for the next couple of weeks, so do tune out for a bit if you prefer the bits where everything goes wrong for me and I am unhappy and washing my hair in conditioner that smells of shit.
We drank some beer with lunch which was fun but dumb as it knocked me sideways (and I was already quite sideways) I slept through the afternoon and felt exhausted and discombobulated when my girlfriend insisted I wake up at 6.30pm. Hopefully those sleep patterns will even out soon.
And thanks to the wonders of the internet I am still in touch with the outside world, so was thrilled to see that York City had won 7-0, just before I went to bed and also to see
this write-up of the Fist of Fun DVD in the Guardian. It's out in a matter of days
from gofasterstripe. Oh yeah, still working.
