As Robert Burns once famously wrote in his poem “To A Mouse” (1785),
“The best-laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men, gang aft agley.”
Indeed, how true that is!
My aforementioned break has arrived and I find myself having written hardly anything! With the change in seasons has come a slight affliction that has served to distract me. This, coupled with a sudden plague of lethargy, has left me feeling entirely forlorn as I fail to see me completing anywhere near the amount of writing I had originally set out to do. My papers are covered with scribbles but the pages remain accusingly blank!
In an attempt to leech this debilitating mood from my body I sit and write this with the vague hope that it will cause me to leap up from my torpor and shake off the vestiges of sickness so that I might take up my words once more.
If anything, I have finally completed that most elusive of tasks, that being Chapter 11. Alas, not even the euphoria I felt at bringing it to an eventual close has managed to rouse me!
Tomorrow is Friday and I shall have but three days left. I shall retire for the evening with a dram or two of whisky and dwell no longer upon the stagnation that mires me.