There is currently an advert on the TV and on some websites to (crappy little flash animation thing) that features a house at Christmas. It is snowing and the house has Xmas lights outside and on the garden fence. The lights on the fence are lotto numbers. They are 3, 7, 15, 18, 41 and 43. I did intend to check whether these numbers have already won a large prize previously. Anyway, I didn't get time to check before I was in front of a Lotto terminal, so I placed them on tonight's draw anyway.
Best of British, huh.
I should make some phone calls.
Christmas.
Family.
Friends.
Etc.
So, today Ikea is open.
I know.
I checked.
95p breakfasts here we come.
Got an extra sausage.
I don't call that going large.
They do.
Just as we were setting off from home, I was in the driving seat and Wifey was just getting in the car and she said something that struck a chord with me as being interesting. Interesting enough to make me think that if I twisted it a bit it'd fit well in the novel. I thought to myself 'That's good. I won't forget that. I don't need to stop the car and write that down or make an audio note on my mobile, I'll remember, of course I will, I'll remember, I'll jot it down as I stop the car in Ikea's car park.
I forgot it.
I must remember (irony?) to write things down immediately the idea strikes me.
Otherwise, more often than not.
It is gone.
I've mentioned this before.
It is very annoying and makes me angry because it is avoidable and it is a constant reminder of what my illness/condition/whatever has done to me.
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