Seraphim and seaweed swim where stick-limbed Myla lies.

Isn't the assonance in that sentence lovely? I can't claim credit, it is, of course, the Decemberists. Is assonance right... yes, it's the vowel sound. I had this image of a girl on a watery bed with all this seaweed and seraphim... when I'm patient enough I'll draw it. Myla always reminds me of Myra Hindley, moors murderer, but she is, of course, Myla Goldberg, famous playwright as opposed to the killer's aide.

A chicken fajita wrap- 327
A Brownie- 273
A sausage roll (200)
Tortellini and pesto (400)
sultanas (100)
a biscuit (40)
some gingerbread (70)
an apple (40)
a tangerine (20)

270 and 600 and 500- 1370. Best to say 1400. I did some walking (about three miles) and arose fairly early. This is 200 calories over what I should be eating. Ok, let's plan tomorrow. Tomorrow, at twelve, I shall eat either a large cookie, or a chicken thai wrap. Something to the tune of 300 calories. Then, at four, I shall partake of something to the tune of four hundred; possibly what I didn't eat at twelve, or, should I be chez moi, tortellini, or pasta and veg, or stir fry veg. Should I not consume one of these for lunch, at four, I shall consume them for dinner at eight. After this, I shall allow myself the other three or two hundred calories in fruit or chocolatey form. I plan for this to happen every day; if only I hadn't ate that damn brownie. That put me exactly 200 over, it's so annoying, I didn't need it, I was just revising and it was there. Wank wank wank.

I missed her a bit today, because I went to places we'd normally traverse together. And I felt like a fatty, but what's new there? Nothing. I suppose I am missing her less, it's more of an ache or a twinge now and then than the voracious gnaw at the edifices of my mind that it was. Today, I kept remembering how, when I'd sat in the particular place I was, once she was opposite me working. Every now and then, I'd stare up, like Gabriel Oak and Bathsheba Everdene (when you look up, there I'll be). I couldn't believe my luck (there's a lesson to be learned there). Then, when I was immersed in some book, she quietly placed her hand on top of mine. That little tiny motion sent tremors through me, shocks. I am easily moved, but all I did was smile to her back behind a curtain of hair. I'm almost certain I jumped from the shock. It's stuff like that I remember and miss. But it has always been this way.

I saw a circus of horrors that was really a circus of overrated, overhyped people with no self awareness that they were tacky. Having said that, it was fairly entertaining, audience participation was good; and I saw it free. The aerial artists were amazing, but then I don't know much about rope stuff so I couldn't tell. It was all very church- hall, but still, better than a kick in the teeth. Someone suspended their body with meathooks through the skin- I'd never seen it live. And there was a woman who seemed to insist on flashing her breasts at every opportunity, lord knows why. There were other women who managed to contain their naturist urges.

Most things, really, are preferable to a kick in the teeth. In fact, I highly prize my gnashers; I can think of nothing worse than having none. Or worse, having some broken off.