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Wednesday, September 04, 2002 15:26
BoredI'm sure I should be doing something constructive. But here I am, with all my schemes being held up at Tidal Waters (again), and nothing more than the gadfly's paper on Reconstructing Ecology for interest. And I don't have the head for that this afternoon. I just want to go home. I'm feeling very much like I should be at home, at the moment. I keep forgetting what time of the year it is and thinking it's winter, looking outside the window and being surprised not to see snow, not that we get snow round here. I need a break, and I have a few days off booked for next week, but not many. I think the stress of moving house and dealing with work while EH has been away has finally caught up with me. My face now looks like it has the classic lupus butterfly rash, but with extra bits, and my skin is dropping off in great big flakes. It's almost like I have sunburn, but in the strangest places. Two saddle sores and a sudden increase in ride distance aren't helping, then there was that massive blow-up on Fivetrees which made me wish all the more that Biatach were more active than it is at present. But I suppose I mustn't grumble. I am slowly getting used to the ride, after all. I have a lovely new saddle on order that should arrive tomorrow, with any luck. I got a great new Gore-Tex jacket for the bike (the Altura is great, but heavy) and a spiffy new hi-fi with some money that Mum gave me as a house-warming present. Fingal now has aero-bars, which are great fun and very comfy, and a new ITM stem that doesn't creak the way the adjustable one did. By next Spring I shall have thighs of steel and, if I can work out how to increase my power:weight ratio, a body fat percentage of below 14 (my current goal). Oh, and last night I rescued a vole. I got home, soaking wet cos it was raining, and rather than stopping for a cup of tea and a smoke as is my usual routine, made the tea and got straight into the shower to warm up. When I came out of the shower and went into the bedroom to get changed, I spotted the cat (I think she's supposed to be called Beltaine, but Frood and I change their names so frequently I forget now - she's currently called Gradunza) poking at something in the grass under the giant buddleia. I figured she had a mouse, and figured it was probably dead, but when I went downstairs she was still poking around so I went out to investigate. There was a shrieking squeak, goodness knows how such a tiny thing makes all that noise, so I knew it was still alive. The cat wasn't all that bothered when I picked it up. It was thin and bedraggled and didn't really struggle. It was in such a bad way that I was sure it would die, but I didn't think it would hurt to take it indoors and warm it up a little and give it a little attention, which is what I did. I gave it an experimental energy gift as well, to see what would happen. I wrapped it in cotton wool, put it in a Warhammer Quest character box (I don't think it matters which one, but it was the Breton Knight thingumy) with some wild bird seed, closed the lid, shoved it in a corner and left it alone while I cooked the dinner. Being pretty convinced it would die, I didn't really give it much thought. It had been almost comatose, completely still, eyes all staring and the only reason I could tell it was still alive when I closed the box was that it was still breathing. When Frood got home, I told him all about the "mouse" (I'd called it Charlie after the mouse in Bagpuss), and decided I really ought to check to see whether or not it was dead yet. When I opened the box the peace and quiet had obviously done it some good because it was scrabbling around with beady little eyes quite happily. I didn't put it out for another hour or so, until it was making attempts to get out of the box itself. Then I guessed it was ready to be put back in the garden. Not that it wanted to go, mind. It took a fair bit of persuasion and some gentle poking to get it to leave the nice warm box with the ready food and go back out into the rain. That's when I realised it was a vole. They are really very cute, with fuzzy round faces and a short fluffy tail. I'm hoping that keeping Gradunza and Mr Scroggins in the house for a few hours after the release gave it a fighting chance, but then there are four cats next door (one of them called Vampire, I kid you not). Our local off-licence (Lee's in Crediton, very fine shop) does the Plymouth sloe gin, the best sloe gin commercially available. That's as good a reason for living where we do as any. Frood took me out to dinner at a local on Sunday as well, as Andy was off at his Dad's 70th birthday party. We went to the New Inn at Coleford - the food is nothing spesh, but there is a talking parrot called Captain and they sell Otter on draft. So I have no reason to be complaining, really. I'm just tired and a bit stressed I think, especially with it being that time of the month and my helmet suddenly giving me headaches, so I'm cranky as Hel (was Hel cranky?) with nothing to do to keep me occupied. I have some ideas for some short stories, but nothing that is bursting to come out the way that Critical Mass was. Part of me thinks, superstitiously, that if I get Fingal resprayed I'll feel better, but that's just silly. Sigh. Bored bored bored bored bored bored bored.
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