2 minutes reading time (399 words)

Megrims and mayhem

Last week I confessed I'd fallen behind schedule. Not too far. Just a wee slip and slither. However, I fell further this week, mutter, mutter.

The megrim arrived, and grimmer than usual. I love the word 'megrim'. Old word for migraine but also, I learn, describes a whim or caprice. And . . . er . . .  'megrim' is also a species of turbot. Edible.

 

You migraine sufferers and turbots out there know all about the grimmery. I had to get some pills to stop me throwing up this time -- which is a first -- and the whole thing took over about three days of the week. However, I'm back. It's glorious sunshine. We're about to switch on the new website and switch off this one. It's technical. Sarah keeps explaining to me how it will work and I keep not understanding it. But this blog will appear just the same. It is the website that will look different.

Behind the scenes, the mechanics of the thing are incredibly clever, though it would be more straightforward if I were working from Windows and not a Mac, much as I love my iMac.

Meanwhile the three Samplers are still simmering and not quite finalised, the mailshot to subscribers is still not quite done -- I have to update the list and do the address labels -- it takes ages. There are reviews to write, Sphinx reviews to edit into triplicate and post, more pamphlets to send out to reviewers, new pamphlets to start thinking about. And I daren't think yet. Not quite yet. Still haven't got Kate Scott's cover licked into shape -- and the Fife Placename Limericks need pictures putting into their pages.

Outside, it's a glorious autumn day. The wind is rippling the trees merrily but not sweeping the leaves off in swathes. Berries are gleaming from hedgerows. Amazing.

Now I've just got to work out how to put the picture of the berries into this blog in the new website.The really good thing about bad headaches (or any other sort of acute but temporary pain) is the way you appreciate so much not being in pain when it stops. It gives you back that thing you had forgotten: the contentment of being at peace inside a human body.

Which today I am. This body is very comfortable, thank you. I'll stay here a bit longer, and get on with my work.

Gill Andrews and the Forty Thieves
More on Indian Summers
 

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Saturday, 19 September 2020

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