A State of Febrile Excitement

Gosh, what a week and a half that was! It was such a trauma to my normal languid routine, to return to the rigours of gainful employment, that I fell into a state of immediate nervous exhaustion. Unfortunately, I was unable to abandon my responsibilities as I would have liked – which would have been simply to take to my bed and hide from the world – because I had other pressing duties to deal with. There were reports to write, accounts to prepare, books to review, meetings to attend, paperwork to catch up on, places to go, people to meet, fish to fry, and sausages to stuff – an entirely crowded tableau and cornucopia of urgent obligation.

A simple remedy to all of this would have been to have had a relaxing and languorous weekend with some effortless R&R to restore the ebbing energies. But it was not to be so. Friday evening brought a visit from the stray cat, and thereby bringing all the normal chaos and disarray that such visits from him ensue. Very little sleep is ever secured when the cat is here – he demands such attention and victuals that I seem to be forever attending to his needs. This interruption was especially unwelcome in view of the fact that I was scheduled to attend a big writing conference on Saturday, some miles away. I managed to get there on time, but felt bleary-eyed and slightly dazed when I did. The conference was still good though, and I had a private meeting with a literary agent who was able to give me some great advice about what to do with my latest novel. I prefer not to interpret her very astute comments as: "This needs re-writing", but more optimistically to take what she said as positive encouragement.

Regrettably, the day at the conference – whilst enjoyable and informative - completely drained me of all energy, and I therefore failed to make it to the birthday bash of super-group Captain Dangerous's lead singer Adam Clarkson, later that evening. This was a disappointment to me, but I just couldn't summon up the vigour to get my body or mind to move. I ended up sleeping for a full twelve hours (although of course, this was with a few interruptions as I intermittently woke up, screaming, with the usual night terrors).

Sunday was spent rushing through shopping and chores, a luncheon engagement, visiting a friend in hospital, and delivering presents for the aforesaid Adam's birthday (somewhat late). I now have a spreadsheet to detail the 1001 upcoming tasks for today, and trying to sort through the priorities is turning into what Daniel has just called a 'logistical nightmare'. There'll be no time to eat, I expect, but fear not gentle and sensitive reader – I have built into the timetable an adequate time to shower and to conduct other such ablutions. It would help greatly if I didn't have to return to the orifice tomorrow, but sadly the almighty dollar calls.

So, nothing of much interest or excitement to report to you – but I will try to improve matters before the end of the week. I daren't even use my blood pressure monitor today – the results might bring on the day terrors too!

Oh, and finally - my daughter Sophie now has her own little weekly show on French TV. She's quite stunning and I'm turning into a very proud dad. Check it out by clicking here.