Pig

                This has been a pig of a week. I had a row with my missus on Sunday morning. It’s Thursday and she’s still not speaking to me.

                Work, ironically, became a little easier, at least for me. As if to compensate for the tension I’ve been feeling at home. I say easier for me, but my workmates are beginning to squabble with each other.

                One of my workmates is leaving. Emigrating. And good luck to him, but it’s adding to the general lack of morale.

                I’ve seen the general public snapping at each other, as well. At the tube station the other night, a Chinese woman wheeling her suitcase along cut across the path of a buggy, with a toddler in it, being pushed by this young white bloke. The man- presumably the toddler’s father- actually used the buggy, with the toddler still inside it, to ram the Chinese woman’s suitcase.

                This summer has been a washout, really, and now it’s beginning to get warmer- if not unbearably hotter- nobody wants to take advantage of it.

                I’m not writing, apart from Morning Pages and Writing Practice. I feel a failure. I feel like I’ve let God down, or that He’s deserted me. I feel like I’m going to be stuck in my day job forever, with the probability of it getting steadily worse. I will never get paid anything for a story. I will never send anything out again, in large part due to the fact that I haven’t got any ideas.

                I hope you’re having a better week.