Yes, there I was, or rather, there I wasn’t. I was miles away, deep in the arms of Morpheus, when we had the 07:00 cacophony. On a flaming Sunday too, in a church that hasn’t been used for worship since 1968.
I was absolutely drenched in sweat too, rather like the Bohemian monk of the old story, and I’d been so far away on my travels that maybe it was a good idea that the church bells had rung because I couldn’t see how I would have been able to come back. I’d started off with the famous victory of Morton yesterday over Kilmarnock. Having released over half a team and signed no-one to replace them, they were playing away, with a team packed full of youth players, against a team from the Scottish Premier League and to everyone’s surprise, won 2-0 and at something of a canter too apparently. Of course, the after-match celebrations played a big part in whatever was going on through the night, and from there I went for a walk up the hill near to wherever I was living to look at the old fortifications and industrial buildings that were there.My route then took me into the village at the top of the hill where they were advertising the village fête. I had a wander around the village, looking for a couple of girls whom I knew because I was hoping to organise some kind of vehicle rally. However I couldn’t find these girls – it looked as if they were otherwise engaged and I was going to end up doing all of the work myself.
But despite the early start, I was in no hurry to leave my stinking pit. Breakfast these days isn’t until 10:00 and so I just lay vegetating in bed for quite a while, relaxing. So much so in fact that I ended up being … errr … rather later than 10:00 when I went for breakfast and so in order to avoid any complication, I fetched my breakfast down here and ate it in my room.
But I’ve had another miserable day. Coughing and spluttering all day, with a streaming head cold that just won’t subside and I’m feeling like death. So much so that by 17:00 I was back in bed crashing out. I just didn’t know what else to do.
Later on, I managed to stagger out for a pizza. Not that I was particularly hungry and I didn’t enjoy it either but I had a feeling that if I didn’t make it out tonight and eat something, I wouldn’t make it out of the door tomorrow and of course it’s hospital day tomorrow.
So now, even though it’s early, I’m going back to bed where I intend to sleep for ever and I don’t care at all even if I do.
I am just thoroughly fed up, thoroughly washed out, and thoroughly depressed. Apart from recovering from my operation at the end of January I don’t think that I’ve ever felt so bad as this.
I just want to die.
