My brain isn’t empty yet. It needs totally clearing before I can start writing again. I don’t mean writing trefor.net blog posts. I mean the creative stuff.
Not sure it’ll happen in Bucharest. Too much going on. My plan is to finish early for Christmas and clear the decks. Get a lot of the jobs around the house out of the way. It’ll be a shock to Anne’s system. She’s got used to me pushing back on the jobs. I can’t mix concentrating on work and getting things done around the house.
I had a kickoff session with the developers for annesvans.com before coming to Bucharest so got the ball rolling on that. Need that finished before Christmas in time for the rush of bookings in the New Year. Hopefully.
Part of emptying the brain is cutting down on consumption. I find that alcohol dulls the senses, even the following day. I can write handle turning stuff such as appears in trefor.net but innovation requires clarity of thought. Once clarity is achieved words pour out as if a bucket is being emptied. A deep bucket.
I quite like the feeling of a totally clear head. You feel as if you can do anything. There is an engine in there geared to making things happen. Actually the process of just sitting in front of a blank piece of paper has the effect of clearing the brain to a certain extent. You just need to stare at something long enough for it to kick in. Once you get started you are fine.
There is a mirror in front of me at the desk in my room where this is being written. It’s a little odd looking up and seeing myself looking back. It should dual up as a monitor. Should be easy enough to invent. Not that I mind looking at myself in the mirror. I don’t think it’s a vanity thing. It’s the same as me liking having my photo taken. I can’t understand why some people don’t want their photo taken:)
All is quiet around me, except for the calm persistence of the air conditioning. One wonders what the good citizens of Bucharest do on a Sunday. Same as everywhere else I suppose, whatever that is. Last Sunday I happened to be in Tesco on Wragby Road and it was packed. Took me a little by surprise. I think I’d only popped in for a couple of basics for tea for me and John. It’s quite nice only having John at home now, the other three now all being away for much of the time.
The hotel I am staying at is the JW Marriott Grand Bucharest, or some similar combination of those words. It’s a posh 5 star along the classic American lines. Comfortable enough, fair play. I did consider paying for an upgrade. However at £40 or so a night I couldn’t see what value I’d get, especially having arrived in the room to find it already pretty well appointed. Would have got me access to the club lounge but I find most of those lounges not worth using anyway. In my experience these exec rooms are the same as the ordinary ones but with a bathrobe and some free mineral water but I already seem to have those so hey… Mind you the mineral water isn’t very nice. I’ve tried it. Tap water is better!
It’s 1.45 local time. I quite fancy a simple cheese and onion sandwich for lunch. Thing is this is a 5 star hotel. They don’t do simple cheese sandwiches. They want to make something elaborate to justify the large amounts of cash they want to remove from your wallet in exchange for the sandwich. I’ll pop down and take a look in a minute. Everything so far seems to be buffetish, if that is a word. If it wasn’t before it is now.
“buffetish” – a bit like a buffet.
Actually it either is a buffet or it isn’t, I suppose. Probably all you can eat. afaik. Buffetish could also major around the word fetish but that wasn’t the interpretation intended by the author. Trust me, I’m a doctor. Well no actually I’m not. That was a phrase that just entered into my head. For some reason. Being a doctor is something that never attracted me. I don’t like gore. Too squeamish.
You can use whatever interpretation you like for buffetish. That’s the beauty of free speech and self determination. Innit. Bye.