Nothing to report - In the name of Thiago - Day 219


At risk of sounding like a complete dullard, I can only report that pretty much nothing happened today. And I’ve been sat here in the summerhouse for ten minutes trying to think what I can say about nothing having happened. The truth is that I can’t think of any other way of dressing it up.


It was actually quite depressing. I have been trying to make things happen, but I was continually being met with blocks. Part of this I put down to the holiday season, lots of people are away and those that remain are scarcely filled with the desire to crack on. And of course, I’m hardly at the cutting edge of industry. There once was a time but it certainly isn’t the case now.



Meatball pasta – hardly cordon fucking bleu but one of Elisa’s favourites, so formerly a sure-fire winner. Today, nothing from her at all. No thank you, just a complaint that the sauce was too runny. She’s gone to her room and is playing up as if I’m the one that’s been unreasonable. Frankly I don’t have the energy to fight her tonight. I’ve just about got a forced apology out of her, but it was all highly unsatisfactory. Time to move on.


With all this in mind, I’m taking the decision that my mental health will be all the better for going for a walk, than it will for me trying to polish a turd in writing this evening. Apologies to you all for the brevity of tonight’s post. Please do keep up the donations, though I realise I’ve given little reason to motivate people to do so on this occasion.


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