It’s a wonderful idea. Waking up at 6am and realising that the time is actually 5am, and you have another 1 and a half hours of glorious oblivion before you have to wrench yourself out of bed and hit the rat race / monkey circus / wombat motorway that is your life.
For most lucky people a Sunday morning is the Lord’s Day of Rest; when cabbaging on your couch is wholly acceptable; when watching the entirety of Lord of the Rings or bingeing a whole TV show is something you actively enjoy without a lingering feeling of guilt, thinking you should be tidying your pigsty, filling out your diary or, at the very least, NOT PLAYING ASSASSINS CREED VALHALLA ALL DAY.
Not for me, at least not this year. No, as fate has it, this year i’m working. I’m emphatically not in Glasgow playing board games, not in Harrogate drinking beers from all round the world, not in Edinburgh hate-watching Dr Who or talking about Henry Cavill’s return as Superman in Man of Steel 2 (please please call it Man of Tomorrow, that would make so much sense.) I’m even not in Aberdeen, filming another weird episode of The Pandora Men or indeed one of ChaosBox’s new standalone creature-folklore-features.
Or indeed, not sitting at home writing the script for an entirely new project that i can’t talk about or writing the Sixth Doctor’s story for a potential anthology, or more importantly, churning out the vociferous / venomous review of “The Power of the Doctor” in my particular idiom. You’ve that to look forwards to, dear readers. :p
NO. instead i’m at work. Driving a forklift about and loading boats, dodging bullets and generally griping about how i want my life to handbrake swerve sometime soon. And i didn’t notice the change from BST into GMT. I woke at 6, thought, ah nice, another hour in bed, because its actually only 5. no. My home is linked to the sodding internet so everything has updated itself automatically. Meaning it IS six o’clock and time to get up. Feck off Autumn. Go fall off the edge of the world.
There is a great deal i haven’t reported on yet. My recent trips to the Doctors have me diagnosed with more things than i can count on one hand, which is both scary and amazing at the same time. Scary, because there is the mildest of hints something quite sinisterly sincere is at the bottom of all the other problems, and Amazing because right now my primary maladies have explanations. I’m a fat pie, i move at sloth speed and my hairs falling out.
…but not because my diet is shite, I’m lazy and getting old. No, no, no. Its because i have hypothyroidism…
the FANGG of HORROR ROCK 