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Tuesday 26th May 2020

6390/19310

Some people are criticising Cummings for claiming to have predicted the Covid19 epidemic and coming up with all sorts of nonsense about him retrospectively editing old blogs. But they’re just jealous. This whole thing was entirely predictable. As I showed with my December 31st 2019 entry. Check out the third paragraph.

The day started at 5am with the boy waking up. I got him down again, but couldn’t get back to sleep myself. I tried to make the most of the time though and got on with some work. Having got another chapter done by about 9.30am I convinced myself that I could get a first draft of the 70% of the book by tea-time and told my editor as much, but of course I was wrong. I did put everything I’ve got into one document and it’s over 12,000 words, but I don’t have the order right and there are some gaps to fill to get the first 12 chapters (+ intro) done. It’s a little bit of a mess, but much better than it could be. 
I think on any normal time I might be able to get this together in four days, but exhaustion hits mid-afternoon  and after doing bed time on my own (fair enough - I’d given my wife a couple of short breaks, but she’s doing the lion’s share of the child care) and a 3 frame snooker match I was more or less the Walking Dead, except not able to walk. I felt like a robot that had run out of battery power as I slurred and shuddered to a halt as I wrapped up the broadcast, which you’d think I’d find sexy. But I didn’t.
I hope this weird fatigue will lift when we’re allowed out again. It’s not like I am running myself into the ground, but even four or five hours of proper work makes me feel like I’ve run up the hill and back. And aside from the stone clearing and the stress of escaping invisible and imagined enemies I am not doing much in the way of exercise. On the plus side I seemed to have escaped the cycle of drinking every night and haven’t had any booze since The Cobbler a week and a bit ago.
The days are long, but the weeks pass in a blink. I don’t understand anything any more. Are we in purgatory? It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. At least for the moment my deadline does not mean I am like the A level studying me who looked at the people cycling by out the window and wished he was free. If and when I finish the book I will still be in lockdown and just have to do my fair share of child care again.


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