ok, there are other things, but why shouldn't I be a little selective with the truth now and then, or even most of the time? In other less uplifting news, my blood tests are showing that there is movement of the inauspicious kind in the area of one of my several autoimmune malfunction conditions (PBC) and this does not come as much of a surprise as symptoms have been sabre-rattling. I have to ask myself whether swimming (in chlorine) is serving or exacerbating. I am craving sugar and have eaten most of the sweets Son brought back from India. I am sick and tired of trying to negotiate with M.E. so try to behave as though it isn't there (I don't care how ill you make me feel, you bastard, I'm not giving you my attention, talk to the arse, the face isn't listening). Obviously this involves a high degree of self-deception but there's nothing wrong with that if it gets you through - and it sometimes does.
In other much better news, I have written a poem I am terrifically pleased with. I must admit that so far this year has not been particularly encouraging. I used to be able to truthfully say that in sending work out I had almost a hundred per cent success rate, but this was only because I sent so little out of what I'd written. Since January I have sent a number of different things off that have either been rejected or ignored. I am telling myself that this poem is going to turn things around and get me a resounding yes. Admittedly I have felt this before and nothing much happened - but also I have felt this before and something did. And the writing must go on, one way or another.
I am going to March for M.E. in London on Monday. It won't help to dwell too long on logistics beforehand, but I'm thinking of trying to get one of those tiny folding gardening stools to bring along - because of all the standing around. And I'd quite like to have a banner to wave around, make me feel as though I'm doing something - although really the point is just to turn up.