Today is the 1st day I don't want to write this blog.
It's 6pm, I've just got in from work (granted I didn't get there until 12pm but 5 hours is a fair shift isn't it?) I want to go to the gym, Bikram Yoga and see my girlfriend.
I'm not going to be able to cram in all of them of course. It's a tough choice. Girlfriend, Gym, Writing, Yoga. I guess it's a question of priorities. Work has fucked everything right up today. How can you achieve your ultimate procrastination goals if you have to work?
In addition I haven't got anything interesting to say. My head is devoid of inspiration. Not a lot has happened today and I feel like I have to make this blog funny, interesting, irreverent to hold the attention of you reading it, otherwise you may not come back.
What's that all about? Fear? Approval? Perfectionism? High expectations? Like me Like me. Please! Desperate isn't it? Why can't I just write. 'Not feeling it today, going to work on my guns. See you tomorrow.'
It's fear really. It's at the heart of everything. "What happens if they don't like it?" "What if I don't get any 'likes' on Facebook when I post it?" "What happens if it isn't brilliant?"
Who really gives a shit. It's all in my head. So what if it's brilliant or not. You will still go about your day. The sun will still rise. Apparently the whole world is not waiting in baited breath to see what Nicholas Evans posts today. After all it's only practice. I'm just finding my voice and the tone of the writing. Seeing where it can lead.
One thing this has to be is honest. Part of me thinks that listing what I've done today is boring, and you know what. It probably is. How many of us lead incredible lives. So that every day is a total adventure? Not many is my guess.
If your a surgeon, fire fighter or mountaineer most days will be interesting, but even they must have the dull ones. 'Dear diary. Woke up. Climbed the Eiger, drank soup, Yawn, just another day"
It's tough to get a blog out of today when the most interesting thing that happened was my stapler broke. But then again everything is relative. I mean The stapler breaking meant I couldn't bind my presentation. A paper clip just won't do. It could be disastrous. Nobody will invest in a business with a manky old paper clipped together presentation. The edges curl up. It's all fucked.
It's the office equivalent of a rope snapping 3000ft up a mountain. It's at times like that when a cool head is needed. You have to think and keep calm. You have to secure yourself and wait for assistance to come and save you. My mountain rescue team was Doreen on reception. She's totally useless at climbing but she's shit hot at pressing a presentation together. It had laminated sides and everything.
Thrilling.
I have tried to curtail my snouting over the past 2 days. Registering a respectable 14 on each day. Way below my usual 20 +. The diet coke is still off the menu and I'm still keeping up the morning routine of stretch, prayer, meditation, chanting.
Mentally I feel OK. Physically not so. Neck, back and man cold still going strong. I managed to blag an MRI scan off the doctor yesterday. Walking in like I'd been run over by a truck and then getting narky when she tried to palm me off with a few gentle stretches.
I also asked her about assistance to give up smoking. I've heard a lot about champix (or was it tampax - maybe I should just chew on one of those instead of a cigarette, bound to stop immediately then)
She responded;
"I've noticed you have addiction problems. It is not a nice drug. It is an anti depressant and was considered too dangerous for long term depressives so they used it for smokers instead. It causes hallucinations, lack of sleep, appetite and mood swings."
Fuck, sounds like me anyway, where do I sign up?
She sent me packing telling me to 'try and cut down to 10 a day and then go to the NHS smoking clinic for the help.'
Thanks doc. Sure I'll try to cut down but you've just told me I have addiction problems. Telling an addict to cut down is like telling a dog to stop licking his own dick. Perhaps she could have passed on that advice on too. After all why do you think my sodding back and neck is injured so much?
GP's are such fuck wits sometimes. Mine was a particularly miserable bitch. Clearly weighed down by beauracracy, budget constraints and idiots like me complaining about pain or illness primarily brought on by ourselves. However there was no excuse, her bedside manner was less Florence Nightingale and more Adolf Hitler.
Fair play though she did refer me for an MRI scan but only after I forced her to. You have to force the issue sometimes. I don't mean to criticise the NHS or health service in this country as I am lucky to live in a country that provides free service, however if GP's don't enjoy it, why do it? To be fair she may have been having a bad day, sometimes the world doesn't have to bow to the Great Nicholas Evans, much to my annoyance. I'd do well to remember that sometimes. (Hence the title of this blog)
The best GP I had was 3 years ago in Fulham. I went after an operation to remove an abscess. I had an open wound that needed to be dressed every day for a week and strong painkillers.
I saw a replacement GP, as mine was off sick (oh the beautiful irony of it) he was a German fella who made my sour faced old bat look like Coco The Clown. This man was toxic. He looked like everything was a problem. You could almost hear him sigh as soon as I hobbled in.
"What do you want", he barked.
"I've just had an operation to remove an abscess and the hospital told me to come here afterwards.", I meekly replied.
"Why?", I was taken aback by this I must admit.
"Well I was hoping you would be able to tell me", Fuck you I thought, you can do the running here.
"But what is it you want"
"Well your the doctor, I work in marketing. You tell me"
I could tell he hated me now more than vermin. I was starting to enjoy it. Time to dig my heels in
"You need it dressing. Go and see the nurse."
"I also need painkillers, the hospital said to take some this week"
"OK (looking bored) what do you want"
"Your the doctor, you tell me" (we were going round in circles here)
"Well, have these, get them next door. Bye"
I swear I heard him punching his Swiss ball as I left. Possibly the most aggressive GP I had come up against. It was not so much passive aggressive, aggressive aggressive.
I went next door and picked up the prescription. He had written me a prescription for 500 strong co-codamol!! 500. Holy Shit. Packets of the stuff. That was enough codeine to keep Glasgow going for a week.
He had just given a registered recovering addict 500 strong codeine based pain killers. He hated me that much he obviously thought, 'fuck him, he can go an overdose the addicted wanker. Die!'
What an irresponsible twat. What an idiot. What a result!!!! I didn't feel anything for a month. Nice one Dr Death.
So that's all I've got today I'm afraid. I'd rate today's as about 29%. Still, at least I kept it up when everything inside me was saying, 'sack it off'.
Oh and of course, back to priorities. What to do tonight. Well, I've written so that one can be struck off the list. My girlfriend complains that sometimes she doesn't see enough of me in the week, so I can't really justify going to the gym or yoga over seeing her can I?
There really is no debate to be had, I mean my life will be hell if I don't see her. How does that look for a woman? A man whom you love, places physical fitness over seeing you. That's not good for the ego is it? That's not exactly showing your woman you would walk across 1000 deserts just to snatch a kiss with her.
No, women want their men to be noble and urgent and full of desire. They want love. Grand Gestures. Communication. They want to feel wanted. They want to be needed. To feel that warm heart of desire and passion. They want honesty. They want the truth. That's what women want, right? The truth.
Of course I'm going tonight. I have too. I need too. I want too. Is that not love? Is that not what a relationship is all about? I need to feel the soft flesh of a females breast. I need to hug and kiss and feel the love of my woman. I need to feel the soothing touch of her gentle hand on my brow.........
..........besides she's bought me Nutri Bullet Blender today as my juicer broke last week. I'm not going to miss out on that am I? I maybe an idiot but I'm not stupid. I need my fresh juice in the morning.
Together we are stronger
Nicholas Evans
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