And Breathe

Guess what happens when you work all year without a break?  Yeah, you get sick.  I am, quite literally, sick and tired.  If you will permit me to be uncharacteristically self-pitying:

I have a dreadful cough so bad I cannot lay down.  This makes going to bed very difficult and I was steaming my head at 4am, in order to lay down without coughing, vomiting or choking.  I'm going to find a doctor tomorrow.  What comes up (excuse me) is clear, so I'm fairly sure there's no actual infection.

My sprained thumb is still sprained.  Old people take a while to heal.

My zip-wire back is still hurting, after more than a year.  Yes, I know.  I have someone I can see now.

And I seem to have eczema on my legs and the back of my head.

Apart from that everything is fine.  But yes, don't work all year again without a break.   Not unless you want to fall apart, and not in a Bonnie Tyler way.

Inevitably, with the wet and fulsome new year waiting round the bend, thoughts turn to future things.  Here is a list of what I'd like to happen.  Some might call them "goals".  The less goal-orientated might call it a list.  Some things are more realistic than others.

1. Get some furniture.
2. Have some friends to use the furniture.
3. Actually finish the two books I have started writing, whose characters cycle round my head aimlessly.
4. Lose a bit of weight and look a bit nicer.
5. Wear feathers and glitter on stage and nothing else.
6. Master at least one language and make another into a pet.
7. But first of all regain health, full mobility, and feel damned excited about where I live.

Enjoy the end and beginning of your years.  I shall be celebrating with a bowl of hot water and Vicks vapour rub.