The Advent of Disappearing

It’s December! Already!

Who the Hell ordered that, I have no place to put it. And no time either, come to that...

Seriously, today is of course the first day of Advent, when, religious hoo-ha notwithstanding, kids all round the civilised world start waking up their parents far before they’re wise to open the doors of their advent calendar, snaffle an extra mouthful of cheap chocolate and wind themselves just that little bit further up in the countdown to CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!

Have to tell you, now being a Disappearing Man in two senses of the word – Disappearing through weightloss and Disappearing from London – I pretty much have my own advent calendar to think about.

Today? I opened the door on the final day of this conference, and the first people apparently came to look around our flat, cos we’re not going to be there after this month.

Tomorrow? The cooker and the dishwasher arrive in our new place. Also, new carpets.

Third and Fourth – our last free weekend to pack and a long-booked appointment Sunday night with comedian Ed Byrne in Hammersmith.

Fifth? Two things – copy deadline for my magazine and meal out with Brenda (see back a couple of entries) and Gerry.

Sixth? I’m in Nottingham all day.

Eighth? Downstairs flooring in the new place.

Ninth? D’s last day of work in London, and a meeting with my step-brother and his wife.

Tenth? Eleventh? The Box run with Sian and a big big van.

Twelfth? Seminar in London all day.

Fifteenth? Works Christmas lunch.

Eighteenth? Movers, and d leaves home. For good.

Twenty-first? My folks’ 26^th anniversary, and for any Pagans in the audience, Winter Solstice.

Twenty-third – I leave London, and go home.

In between which, all the organisations I’ve already rung/written to/emailed to say we’ll be moving have to be rung and written to and emailed again because they couldn’t do anything on their systems until it was December. Am hoping that by the time we move in properly in January, we’ll have phone service and TV service and broadband and all the palaver that one needs if one’s gonna sit on one’s ass at home all day. So – onnnn we go.

In purely Disappearing terms, have found myself doing stupid things all day – nipping looks in mirrors and pulling my shirt tight, and frowning. Bottom line – I look noticeably bigger and rounder at the end of this week than I did at the beginning of it. Friend of mine who’s also been at this conference pretty much shrugs this sort of thing off, and says “it’s conference week – just gotta say ‘fuck it!’” And any other year but this year, I’d have laughed, and agreed, and gotten stuck in. But this year, just saying ‘fuck it’ means probably falling significantly backward and have it all to do again. Which is more than a little dispiriting, but at this point, while not exactly saying ‘fuck it,’ I am prepared to say ‘don’t have time to go all neurotic about it, back to normal tomorrow.’ Back, also, to my standard meds tomorrow (have been off them since Monday and Tuesday respectively, with the exception of the Xenical, which continue to make their presence staggeringly felt). So – on the second day of Christmas, my true love will bring to me, a return to normali-ty....

Oh, footnote – finally got to the gym tonight – did a thousand and some-odd calories of biking. Quite enjoyed getting back to it...cos I’m getting a bit sick about things like this. So much so, am aiming (said he, in the full understanding that people will raise an eyebrow and go “ah-huh?”) to get up at about six tomorrow and do an hour down there before breakfast.  Fun, huh? This is the life of a Disappearing Man with far too little time left on his hands...