Blood this morning was 5.5, which was fine, especially as - for reasons that I'm embargoing till the end of the week, I didn't get to bike last night after all. Could have done something today. Didn't. Did quite a bit of day-job and quite a lot of business work today - website stuff and Facebook stuff mainly: at the start of the day, Jefferson Franklin Editing had only 20-something likes, now we have about a hundred more. Plus a couple of authors have sent me first chapters to work on, which always holds the tantalising promise of money...which would come in really handy.
That being said, there's every chance that the blisters will have worked their evil way with me come tomorrow. Again, buggerall that can be done about it at this point. If it's not good, it's not good, and we re-focus in a blister-free environment going forward.
"You have bald knees," mused d. We were bathing together - an occasional pleasure that, given a combination of a truly evil bathtub in Stratford and a LOT more weight - has been rather more theoretical than occasional for a few years. "How come you've got bald knees?"
Feel free to insert your own (probably perverse) theories here. I did.
"You've also got the legs I remember," she said. "The legs I married...before I ruined you!"
She didn't ruin anything of course, but she's probably right about the legs. I was heavier than this when we married, but my legs were pretty much OK because I hadn't worked out the bus schedule in London, so I used to walk everywhere that I couldn't tube it to. The legs are fairly stable now I'd say...
"Course, your six pack's a bit more like...erm..."
I pulled the flaps of flab in, to give her my best weightlifting impression.
"...a layer cake," she finished, grinning. "Mind you, it used to be a barrel, so that's progress..."
So this is me - Layer Cake Boy - signing off and facing whatever the morning brings, looking endlessly forward and downward, and full of plans of Stuff To Do for the coming week. Oh and with a shedload more people liking me than they did at the start of the day.
"Pays to advertise," said d when I mentioned this. So, what the hell...
"Writing a book, a script or a play? - Then get yourself a professional editor (no, really, I've told you before, don't take this blog as evidence of the skill!), at recession-friendly prices. Go to www.jefferson-franklin.co.uk now, or email us at enquiries@jefferson-franklin.co.uk for a quote. Prices capped until May 2013 for work up to 200,000 words..."
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