I hate that feeling when I’ve written something I thought was OK and then when I re-read it a few hours later, it has somehow turned into a heap of drivel. There must be a special gremlin who delights in this – he’s the literary version of the brownie who sours your milk.
And so another blog post bites the dust.
Recently I was lying awake at 3 in the morning, healthy, happy and not particularly sleepy. I had a careful look around to see if I could see any grasping shadows or purple wormholes. None at all – my room was dark, quiet and boringly normal. There weren’t even plumbing noises this time.
I’m convinced my adventures the other night were because I was exhausted by repeatedly falling asleep only to be woken again. It would take its toll on anybody – isn’t it used as a form of torture?
The blog post I jettisoned yesterday was about Feng Shui – my book informs me that everything is about vibrations (including colour and taste). There are good vibrations and bad vibrations – too many of the latter can eventually affect your health.
So who built this house? I often feel like going after them with a shovel… better still, I’ll make them live here.