Well, this is getting to be a habit, and one I’m not happy with. After last month’s nil productivity (more like negative productivity) where I learned to hate what I’d written, I think my body went into shutdown. Not more than a few days afterwards I got hit with a really bad case of pneumonia that nearly had me wheeled into hospital. I’m not quite the one to get sick, I’ve only been hit with worse than the flu a few times, so I guess this one’s made up for all the shit I’ve missed out on. I’ve only just managed to get behind a screen today, and I’ve been hacking my lungs out constantly for the past month or so. Not to mention only being able to sleep sitting up. Am I a happy camper? No, and I’m nowhere near 100% now.

So, a litany of failure and disaster for two months, and the real possibility of nothing more for another one. If I were a spiritual man I’d say I’d given deep offence to the writing gods but, not being one, I’m going to blame another moron on public transport a month or two back. Yes, we’ve an issue in this city with people who should be at home recovering deciding they need to spread the love – and germs – with everyone else on the buses and trains; just wish they’d buy my books.

Until next time (hopefully with something positive).