This morning I woke up at 5:15am. Apparently my sleep was 85. Since my 43rd birthday I have slept very well.
Tiredness still weights down my guts, a dark and silty river. I sit and wait here, wondering, hoping - being! And I feel I am back. The man who might write and read - other more sober demands can begin to fall away.
I have some money. Do something with it. Let's discuss.
I discuss often with an AI my thoughts about the above. This diary is strange because it does not instigate different feelings from a different reader, who is me now.
What is it about that child and his imagination that I wish to provoke, to capture, to validate? That first White Dwarf - of a grouping that validated such thought. A Screaming Bell, a Shadowsword.
Is there the pressure of 'being the best' that comes from my heritage?
Below I will consider soon - a journey where I will describe these places:
I am of an age where I... want to speak to my younger self. What might I have done differently?
1) What would I say to myself upon leaving university? What would I say about those first steps?
2) What would I say to myself in my PGCE?
3) What would I say to myself in St Augustine's school? As I prepared my classes. As I ground out the teaching?
4) What would I say to myself in Beijing? In that first posting?
5) Would would I say to myself in Dubai?
6) What would I say to myself in Manila? In those initial years?
