My friend, Mary, purchased us tickets for this event on 12 March 2014.
My thinking was that it would be motivation for getting the thesis written and my butt back to London.
Turns out my pathological laziness, innate apathy and melancholic disposition have other ideas.
Thesis activity since Christmas break ended on January 18th…
Well, a chapter has not been re-written if truth be told and I sit here now feeling completely disinclined to get it started. It has been planned, re-researched and thought about a lot, but actively sitting here and writing. No.
You would think the thought of an evening with Miranda Hart would rev me up. No. I just want to get home and watch the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory.
On the positive side, I do have another paper in production to complete my, what I call, Charity Trilogy. Readers’ comments will be delivered in person next Friday at a symposium with my peers. Apologies in advance to the person who asks the question I completely misunderstand and answer arse-about. Experience has proven there is always one. Don’t be afraid to ask me the question again. I can laugh at myself. I’m excellent at it!
There is a scratch on my laptop screen. This is distressing me. I treat my belongings with such care, so I’m a little nonplussed at how a scratch could appear. Unless it’s another cataract developing.
I had my eyes checked last year and they did this really cool scan of them that showed my cataracts have been with me since birth. Our eyes are like onion skin and any ailments can be pinpointed to a particular period in our life based on which layer they have adhered to. As a bambino who entered this world attempting to bungee jump her way out of the womb via the umbilical cord wrapped imprudently around the neck, this would have necessitated a burst of oxygen from the doctor, which would have resulted in the aforementioned cataracts, congenital cataracts to give them their proper name. The human body is so fascinating. Well, apart from the gross bits.
Speaking of which. My Honorary Aged Aunt and Mother were reminiscing on the weekend and an anecdote they were having a little gawf over got me thinking about the possible causes for my anosmia. (Anosmia being the condition rendering one without the sense of smell.) A visit to the Ear-Nose-Throat specialist was not very conclusive. He thought that whatever had caused my anosmia happened early in life, if not at birth, and my useless nose through which I can barely breath, but from which the nose gunk flows freely, will never function normally. The anecdote that got me thinking was such. I was twelve months old. The parentals, the Honorary Aged Aunt, my young self and our family pooch were in the family vehicle on a hot day making the long drive somewhere for a holiday that was aborted soon after arrival because of the slithery and lizardy infestation of the holiday bungalow. Anyway… On the drive down to the holiday destination, the family pooch got rather putridly flatulent, a condition that was rendered 100,000,000 worse, apparently, because of the hot temperature. Windows were wound down, but the green, aromatic pong within the car lingered. I am wondering whether it was the family pooch’s trumping tuchus that burned away my fragile, still developing sense of smell. I suspect it might be. My other theory is that Mother Nature/God/Yahweh/Allah/Zeus whoever realised that I had been born into a family of Trumpers, pets and people, and decided it was kindest to leave me without this particular sense.
Anyway… I am digressing. No. I am procrastinating. Instead of getting on with the re-write of chapter 3 of my Magnificent Octopus / Blasted Thesis, I am sitting here stuffing about on my blog and posting complete twaddle about runny noses and farts. Charming! No wonder my nephews love me. They are all trumps and butts, and so, it would seem, is their Almost-Forty-Year-Old Aunt. Oh well. Some of us never grow up it would seem.
For those of you who have been and wished you weren’t, my apologies, but really, it serves you right for procrastinating away from whatever you should be doing right now.