Darned cockwombles.
A particularly ridiculous procrastination: I'd been putting off ringing HMRC for weeks, for fear that I would be on the phone for at least two hours....and it just got sorted in 9 minutes. That'll teach me (it probably won't).


call me big papa
Peak procrastination was achieved in university for me, and my Master's Degree almost drove me mad.

And I'd always, ALWAYS find that once I started writing these essays I'd been avoiding for weeks on end, that I actually enjoyed the writing process, except that I now had only an evening to write 5,000 words.

With that stuff I think what causes the delay is the fear of writing something shit. Or maybe the fear of the effort that you know could come when you have to turn something shit into something good.

Oh for a life of leisure!


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A life of leisure is very difficult. Much easier to work. the terrible thing about lesuire is the way it strips you of that fondly held delusion: if only I had the time I'd do something brilliant. If only I had time I'd be productive. Well, you won't.


call me big papa
Not a huge fan of this poem but it's been knocking around my head in relation to this topic.

The Fascination of What’s Difficult

The fascination of what's difficult
Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent
Spontaneous joy and natural content
Out of my heart. There's something ails our colt
That must, as if it had not holy blood
Nor on Olympus leaped from cloud to cloud,
Shiver under the lash, strain, sweat and jolt
As though it dragged road metal. My curse on plays
That have to be set up in fifty ways,
On the day's war with every knave and dolt,
Theatre business, management of men.
I swear before the dawn comes round again
I'll find the stable and pull out the bolt.


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Just put some wd-40 on a door that's been creaking for ages. I feel godly. Like Barty when he brought that dead puppy dog back to life the other day.