I know I don’t work down the mines and that I’m a lucky guy who manages to spend most of his time writing in the beautiful little Sussex town of Lewes but it has still been an oddly exhausting week. First there were those dental “procedures” – two of them – where I had injections that nearly numbed the whole of Lewes let alone my face.
I also had to give away most of the blood in my right arm for a series of blood tests. The nurse apologised for going in “so deep” but apparently my veins are shy private things reluctant to give up their contents. Who can blame them.
I had my first ‘flu jab too – I know I’m too young to qualify for it but the doctor says he will make an exception of me due to all my “chronic illnesses – charming. So now it was my left arm’s turn. I didn’t realize that the jab made you feel ill or that it makes your arm ache. It’s still a good thing though, I assume.
Then I had to visit my doctor for some more invasive stuff and a blood pressure test. All things considered, I came out of it with a comparatively clean sheet for a semi-brain-damaged, marginally epileptic neurotic.
I’m not so past it yet though that I couldn’t spend five days this week in maximum intensity weight training. No wonder then today, when I’m struggling to finish ten new poems for a November deadline that I feel, well, knackered. Poets can get tired too, you know, but I just heard two more of my poems are about to be published, so I’m not complaining. Coffee time.