W.S. Gilbert knew what it was like.

When you’re lying awake with a dismal headache, and repose is taboo’d by anxiety,
Iconceive you may use any language you choose to indulge in, without impropriety;

[From Iolanthe, 1882]

That was me last night. After passing a wonderful (not) day on the sofa in front of the fan. I dragged myself off to bed at around 21.30, only to lie there, head thumping despite the Depon, nose bunged despite the Ronal, and a few other remedies knocking about inside, and I lay there. And lay there. And turned, and lay there, and finally dozed off, and woke up again more or less straight away, because the fan had gone off. A power cut. So I got up and sat on the balcony for a while, and stared at the stars, and went back to bed, and finally must have dozed off again around midnight, only to wake again at one, one-thirty, two-twelve, and all stops south until I gave up at 4.30.

Nothing better than cold water when you’re dry and bunged, and the experience is enhanced with a vitamin C tablet in it, all followed by a ‘nice cup of tea.’

One of the reasons I find it hard to sleep sometimes isn’t to do with the body crying out for a rest, it’s to do with the mind waking up just when I don’t want it to. Last night, after watching the stars, I went back to bed thinking, ‘It’s all very well these rich people buying holiday homes they only use a few weeks of the year. It’s all very well local authorities allowing great big new complexes to be built, but not insisting a percentage of them are used for social housing or rent, and it’s all very well having your fancy dinners and smart hotels, and mansion houses, but we’re all in the same darkness when the power goes off.’

I really wasn’t in a good mood.

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Sneezing, head full of cold, sore eyes, not a lot else to talk about, woe is me, not man flu, I’m pleased to say, but might as well be, could be too much dust in the air, or an allergy, but one of those non-drowsy tablets and I’m asleep for a week, tennis elbow getting better though, sun’s out, book to read (book to write), things to do, but will be done slowly, day at home, will be fine tomorrow, meanwhile, random photos is all I got, mate. Goodnight.

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I often prepare Monday’s blog post on a Sunday morning when my mind is more lively because I’ve had a rest from writing for a day and have things on my mind that need putting on virtual paper. Well, today is no exception as I’m writing this yesterday, but I don’t really have much to say, apart from this:

Malaphors. A malaphor, apparently, is the unintentional combination of two idioms or clichés that results in a humorous statement that doesn’t make a lot of sense. My husband comes out with them all the time. One can hear him singing in the kitchen, ‘’Cos you’ve got to have toast, toast, toast,’ a combination of ‘Faith’, by George Michael, and (A little bit of) ‘Toast’ by Streetband (Paul Young, 1978).

Another of his is, ‘Grandma, we love you, the one with the waggly tail.’ This is a malaphor created by mixing ‘There’s No One Quite Like Grandma’ by the Saint Whocares School Choir, with ‘(How much is) That Doggy in the Window?’ made famous by Patti Page in 1952.

I’ve used these things for a character in one of my books. The chap in question mixes his lines of poetry, such as:

‘Let us go then you and I to a place where the wild thyme grows.’

He also says, ‘Once upon a midnight dreary, the owl and the pussy cat went to sea.’

I think it’s fun, and as that ‘Once upon a midnight…’ comes from my favourite poem, I thought I’d use it again and make a complete sow’s purse out of a sleeping dog, mix things up, add in a bit of Wordy’s Worth with some Lewis Carroll and see what nonsense I can come up with to get the week off to a dodgy start. So, here, before you get to a couple of random photos, is a creation which I have titled…

Malaphorious

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
I wandered lonely as a cloud.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
That floats on high o’er vales and hills.
All mimsy were the borogoves, when all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils, and the mome raths outgrabe.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Only this and nothing more.”

Thank you, and have a nice day.

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I woke up this morning to find myself thinking I was chilly. There’s a bit of a breeze, you see, and that means the temperature was only 25°, though the thing on the wall says the humidity is still 70%, but it doesn’t feel like it. I might have to put a T-shirt on as I sit here by the open window, with the fan going beside me out of habit.

Another habit: ending the week with a selection of photos because I’ve run out of things to say. Today’s are an odd mix of my trip to Rhodes on Wednesday, some research I’ve been doing, and a rather nice one of my desk in the early morning. That’s my A to Z of London as it was in 1888, a book published in the 1980s containing maps drawn and published in 1888, and very useful for being accurate when talking about journeys, and when finding places that existed then, but don’t now.

The food image was taken at Nimmos Taverna in Rhodes Old Town. This is the place I use when on my way back to the Blue Star at Akandia, as it’s not a long walk after lunch. You arrive on Rhodes in the early morning, get all your jobs and visits done, and then have a late lunch at Nimmos with ‘the boys’ who I’ve kind of known since they were six or seven and who are now in their late 20s, and then waddle off to the boat afterwards, sometimes via Kanadis Street and the large supermarket to pick up decently priced tea bags and the like.

The rest are simple random shots, so enjoy them and have a good weekend.

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Not that we need any as we’ve been getting plenty, and the high temperatures to go with them. According to some sources, this is the new norm, and we can expect hotter summers from now on. The planet has just had its hottest day ever recorded, which is another sign of the times. The ‘times’ being the change in the earth’s climate due to natural processes or manmade interference. Anyway… I’m not here to talk about all that. I’m here to show you some sunrise photos, because I have a lot of them I want to clear out of my folder.

They can also stand in for news because I have very little today. Having walked seven miles around Rhodes on Tuesday, I took yesterday off, and this morning, I have some writing chores to do before I can return to where I last left my characters, which was in a sewer under Piccadilly. I expect they are fed up with waiting for me to put them somewhere else, but I should be able to get to them in an hour or so.

As for the other new book, the biography of Robert ‘Bobby’ Thompson, I received some feedback from someone who knows what they are talking about, and he suggested I name names in the blurb that people read on Amazon. So, yesterday, I changed it (and then changed it again when I noticed I’d put in two typos, but, hey), and added in this section:

Bobby’s colourful life crossed paths with King George VI, Sir Winston Churchill, the Dalai Lama, Shirley Bassey, David Bowie, Quentin Crisp, Ruth Ellis, and numerous other crowned heads, politicians, entertainers and leaders of society.

https://mybook.to/bobby That’s the link to the book if you want to know more. And here’s another early morning image.

I need to cut along now, as I gave 1,000 words to churn out before churning out another 3,000 before lunch, after which I have a piano session, and then, I think I will look forward to a film on the television, or maybe even a game of cards or something in the courtyard. It depends on which will be cooler. Mind you, we often take the fan outside anyway, especially if there’s no breeze.

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