12 April 2012


Wake betimes - 0630hrs, on the dot - and consult my list of new habits I have resolved to hard-wire into my DNA soul.

I bought this book and it makes for horrendous inspiring reading: what a mess I've been in.

  1. "Wake". Check. So far so good.
  2. "Rise". Figures.
  3. "Serieusement, UP. Out of bed. Wake is not rise. Rise is rise." Damn, this is a good list.
  4. "Walk Sambo"
  5. "Feed animaux"
  6. "Prepare brek". No, you mean check email and faff. 'PREPARE BREK'
  7. "Knee-bends" as kettle boils; calf exercises on hall step
  8. Clear debris: hang clothes, junk junk, replace books on shelf, CDs and DVDs back on rack. Plump cushions.
  9. 50 shoulder stretches with Pilates band, 30 bicep stretches.
  10. 50 tummy crunches: And a 48 ... 49 .... 50! Nae problem, laddie. Nuther 10 to show off ... 59 ... 60. [Now check email?]
  11. "Eat breakfast"

Brek over, now I can check email and phone messages. Brisk replies, delete delete, print for 'pending' tray, delete delete, forward to brother for him to carry his weight on this whole Probate hassle. Time up!

Yo! Cool list, clever book.

Easter week ~ plan day.

Google wozzup - too confusing or outta date.

Notice splendid use of 'crucification'.

Remember for song for church summer chansonerie, 'Cross, lost view of.'

'Don't block my view of the cross, brother
There's a green hill far away
Jesus be the Boss, no other
Crucification, name of the game.


Take my hand, girl, say you love me true
Not that it really matters,
Lord have mercy, I'm crazy 'bout you
Thought i'd won the jackpot, but you dont give a toss
I got a friend in Jesus and I got my eye on the Cross

That'll do 'til the good verse comes along.

Re-surf, "Easter week corfu 2012 what to do?"

Rue D'Emoca: damn me if that Sinbad hasnt wheedled his way into the algorithm ... and it's got everything I'm after including:

" ... week's started and there’s municipal tidying of verges ... men on scooters bearing their strimmers like crusader’s swords ..."

[Damn i like that strimmer bit; note to pinch to impress my readership. No chance of being busted, like nobody reads him so I'm safe there ...]

Great scene for my movie "Seven Strimurai": The bully baddies all wielding gleaming AK47s from Lidl Monday bargains ... muah ha hah!

In they zoom to rustic KoraKickAssiana confident of easy plunder and rapery and boum!

The honest rustics are ready for them innit: strim them off at the ankles and then work up to the goolies. R-rating minimum.

Them blades on Boadicea's chariot won't be in it.

But I digress.

  • " ... Sweep. Do housework (ugh) ... ... fires forbidden after April 30 (aye, there's a point. Shock Kostas with my native knowledge).

    Read Mark Edmundsen's piece in NYT about hungry heart and get teary about my girls. Phone them and tell them i'm sending a link I wish we could read together. They are awake, of course:

  • Georgina abed reading improving literature.

  • Anna clubbing
    "Shrup, you guys! My dad's calling me."

    'Your dad like talks to you? I thought he was like in Greece or stuff ...'

    "He is!"

    'Omigod omigod! That is soo cool, like my dad is in Queen Anne and he like totally nevah calls me ... can I talk to him?'

    They are never allowed because I use my George Sanders voice and they interrupt with OMG are you like the ... crypt keeper?

    Worth and Truth: Never wise to read Baddeley-sahib: his scribblings resonate with worth and truth and maturity et guff and catch me off guard so there's a real danger of me being distracted into bad habits (dread word!) such as grabbing the mower and doing my pasqualian thing and tidying the place.

    As I emerge from my 6 years of cowed slavery, I'm picking my way into healing and one of them is to distinguish between tending this wonderful garden under orders and doing it for me in my time and with a modicum of self-respect.

    Some twit came up to see that I was ok and crowed "Gardening! Good exercise!"

    No, i scowled, good exorcise.

    Sent her packing. Yesterday's toady. New kid in town.

    List: food shop. [Oh do i have to? Bore]

  • Make list. SNOOPS (stuff never out of permanent stock)

  • Press ups - nobody bonks a weakling. Summer is a cumen in, and so are the buff yachties. (Point taken.)

    God, the place looks neat. Oh, right, the list. Consults: post letters by noon. By noon, you slacker? I'm like way ahead of you ... envelopes pre-stamped n all. But good point, shop at Scovto so's to pass Elta.

    Nokia texting off the hook. Where was I last nite? Much missed at the boozeria, great scene.

    See me beer o'clock at the Navig'?

    And the Devil took me up the mountain and said

    'Lo! From here you can see all the bars of Corfu. Welcoming smiles, one of the gang ... there Louise choosing her sexy garb, there Miranda and her shy smile and confiding in Suzi that Leo was fading and she might just could come out of hiding for you.

    Over there the German girl of the stern emails and lunchability.'

    Behind me!

    Surf Demo Krakatoa. Useless. Nil advice on birds. That Carrie must've made him take it down, 'Demo does Dasia' ~ hottest page in town. No, here it is - disclaimer, page removed to avoid competitive lawsuit from Hustler and Grecian Babes. Sic transit.

    No worries, Hustler is roobish since i stopped writing for it.

    15 new emails but The List forbids me til after lunch and i've washed up and everything tidied away.

    Oil and Hone shears: set out to give jardin a fashionable 'haircut'. Approach pergola - ugh , pull-ups. I can't do them pull ups. Every day, pull ups. A young man's job.

    In Sam's eyes, 'Don't back down, massa. Every day you do 'em and you say the same thing. Don't back down'. (And he's right.)

    I give it a feeble try ... 10, 11, 12 ... gasp puff (joking) ... think summer, think short sleeves, think convex bicepettes ...

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