Another day where I can’t manage to get the things done that I imagine are expected of me. The normal mundane things of life. I have a bathroom half finished, the vacuum is sitting in the middle of the lounge unplugged, TV on, JJJ on the radio and a pile of brochures on Glasgow spread out on the couch to be updated for Stephanie & Alexandre to choose from when they arrive next week.

Instead of the such obvious pleasures as those described above, I’ve been corresponding on the email, reading editorials on the net, and letting myself be carried along in the endless time-consuming foray of visiting other peoples ‘blogrolls’. I’ve made and eaten a lovely prawn & pesto pasta for lunch and am halfway into organising a quick trip to New York in November, and am desperately trying to get finished up so I can go and have a much deserved coffee (and perhaps piece of cake!) at a warm and cosy cafe somewhere nearby. It’s a dim, grey and wet Glasgow day, perfect for coffee, cake and newspapers.

One of the advantages of my life is that my responsibility to myself is probably the biggest responsibility I carry. I’m not made to feel guilty for not getting stuff done, I’m not bullied into succumbing to what others would consider normal employment. I have the flexibility and responsibility of making the right choices all on my own.

Well. That did it then. I’m off to finish that bathroom, and if I get time I’ll drop in to the gym to give those weights a quick lift and my body a rude shock. It will all be ok, I’m out with Julie tonight which should guarantee plenty of free flowing wine and good stories that should take me through mid next week.