I feel like I’ve had the absolute stuffing knocked out of me gentle reader. Fibromyalgia has flared violently in my body yet again and I’m walking with a stick and wincing at every physical movement. Even as I type this I have an overwhelming urge to shout ‘F*** IT!’ and go back to bed. Yeah, that bad.

However, if there’s one thing that I am it’s a trooper. I’ve always had that ability to push on when things get rough but of a truth I’m struggling, struggling badly. Ergo, this weeks podcast, whilst still 40 minutes long, was possibly my hardest one yet. I just couldn’t raise my spirits when I recorded it and even Joke of the Week hurt me when I laughed. And I’ve got to record a video on Friday. Oo ‘eck, as Joe Wilkie might say.

Then there’s the writing. I had a pop at the new novel on Monday afternoon and managed a paltry 400 words. Compare that to a month or so ago when I achieved over 7000 in one day; a personal best. Still, they were 400 good words so let’s look on the bright side.

You see, that’s the thing with fibromyalgia. It’s always there, a constant nagging reminder with aches, pains and tiredness which you kind of live with, and then you get a flare up, like this one, and by God you know about it then. Right now I feel as if I’ve single handedly arm-wrestled a whole troop of baboons and lost badly to each and every one of them. My shoulders feel like someone has set fire to them and my legs are neither use nor ornament. Especially ornament. As for the fatigue, let’s just say that right now, at this very moment, as I slowly and painfully type these words, I want my pillow.

So things here at Blessham Hall have somewhat ground to a halt. Yesterday was Becky’s graduation from Leeds Art University and I went and helped her celebrate. It was a lovely day, truly it was. Ange and I felt very proud of her. But I shuffled about the place like a centenarian on quaaludes whilst all around me energetic bright young things in caps and gowns with beaming smiles revelled in their academic success. They probably took one look at me and thought, ‘Poor old sod, they ought to put him out of his misery.’

Anyway, my fingers hurt from typing so I’m going to sign off for now. I’ll be back, you know darn well that I will, but for now I’m going to heed the lilting siren song of the mattress and crawl back into bed. See you very soon.