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Writing class.
Mar. 13th, 2008 09:10 pmIt was Gillian's class again today. On the way I stopped off at Starbucks and naughtily ordered a mocha coffee to take away. I was surprised that it was only £2.30, which I thought was not at all bad for the very centre of the city, because I've paid those sort of prices, or even more at those crummy motorway coffee bars. It's so silly that we need to buy coffee from outside because the Methodist Church, where we have our class, has a really good coffee bar of its own and the coffee smells wonderful, but they don't open till 11.15, even though there are lots of staff there making sarnies and so forth when we first get there at 9.30. Wasted opportunity in my opinion. There are 17 of us and most of us would buy coffee there if we could.
We spent rather a lot of time discussing what to do with the extra money we've amassed. It makes me cross, because Gillian has organised everything and charged what is reasonable, and I think that after she has paid the expenses and paid herself, she should keep the rest of the money in case we hit problems some time, but she is so painfully scrupulous that she feels that after she's paid herself on the highest band of what the local Writing people get, she should give the rest of the money back in some way. I think this is madness. It's a business and she needs to make provision for hard times and a pension. I think I shall e-mail her about it.
I enjoyed the class but I wasn't feeling so great today, owing to extra breathlessness and my horrible bloody knee playing me up again. I didn't produce anything I'm likely to develop, still, you can't expect it every time and it was quite fun.
I looked up pulmonary hypertension on the Internet and I was very struck by the entry in Wikipedia which stated
"A history usually reveals gradual onset of shortness of breath, fatigue, non-productive cough, angina pectoris, fainting or syncope, peripheral edema (swelling of the limbs, especially around the ankles and feet)"
I haven't experienced angina, or fainting but I certainly have the other symptoms. I've been complaining about the cough since long before the breathlessness started and just last week it was so bad it gave me painful ribs.
Charles is upset because he thought I should immediately feel better on taking the beta blocker, and for all I know he is right, perhaps I should, but I rather imagine that the effect is cumulative as with so many medicines.
He is thinking that he may be allergic to wheat or gluten, so he's in the first 48 hours of giving up bread, cake and everything else which might have wheat or gluten. He has an awful headache and is feeling unwell, so maybe he's right, perhaps it's withdrawal symptoms. I have to say I know nothing about this condition, although I'm thankful not to suffer that as well as everything else.
Tomorrow I'm hoping to get to the the Lit & Phil, because my writing has come to a full stop at home, owing to constant interruptions. I planned to write this afternoon, but Charles asked me to cut his hair, which takes ages, because he has curly hair which he lets get rather long and every time I think I've sorted out a lock of hair, it starts sticking up in the opposite direction. No sooner had John realised what I was doing than he booked me to shave his neck and shoulders and then it was time to help Charles with the dinner.
Now I can barely stay awake although it's not yet 10 o'clock!
I wonder whether I can stay awake long enough to start on Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. I heard part of it on Radio7 a few weeks ago and it sounded quite fun, so I thought I'd give it a try when I was at Waterstone's last and got my three books for the price of two.
We spent rather a lot of time discussing what to do with the extra money we've amassed. It makes me cross, because Gillian has organised everything and charged what is reasonable, and I think that after she has paid the expenses and paid herself, she should keep the rest of the money in case we hit problems some time, but she is so painfully scrupulous that she feels that after she's paid herself on the highest band of what the local Writing people get, she should give the rest of the money back in some way. I think this is madness. It's a business and she needs to make provision for hard times and a pension. I think I shall e-mail her about it.
I enjoyed the class but I wasn't feeling so great today, owing to extra breathlessness and my horrible bloody knee playing me up again. I didn't produce anything I'm likely to develop, still, you can't expect it every time and it was quite fun.
I looked up pulmonary hypertension on the Internet and I was very struck by the entry in Wikipedia which stated
"A history usually reveals gradual onset of shortness of breath, fatigue, non-productive cough, angina pectoris, fainting or syncope, peripheral edema (swelling of the limbs, especially around the ankles and feet)"
I haven't experienced angina, or fainting but I certainly have the other symptoms. I've been complaining about the cough since long before the breathlessness started and just last week it was so bad it gave me painful ribs.
Charles is upset because he thought I should immediately feel better on taking the beta blocker, and for all I know he is right, perhaps I should, but I rather imagine that the effect is cumulative as with so many medicines.
He is thinking that he may be allergic to wheat or gluten, so he's in the first 48 hours of giving up bread, cake and everything else which might have wheat or gluten. He has an awful headache and is feeling unwell, so maybe he's right, perhaps it's withdrawal symptoms. I have to say I know nothing about this condition, although I'm thankful not to suffer that as well as everything else.
Tomorrow I'm hoping to get to the the Lit & Phil, because my writing has come to a full stop at home, owing to constant interruptions. I planned to write this afternoon, but Charles asked me to cut his hair, which takes ages, because he has curly hair which he lets get rather long and every time I think I've sorted out a lock of hair, it starts sticking up in the opposite direction. No sooner had John realised what I was doing than he booked me to shave his neck and shoulders and then it was time to help Charles with the dinner.
Now I can barely stay awake although it's not yet 10 o'clock!
I wonder whether I can stay awake long enough to start on Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. I heard part of it on Radio7 a few weeks ago and it sounded quite fun, so I thought I'd give it a try when I was at Waterstone's last and got my three books for the price of two.
