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By Chris Chapman
August, 2007, 14:50

The distractions of everyday life including bladder and breakfast can be numbing.
At my age if I can start the day by not falling over when pulling on my Y-fronts, I reckon it's a good omen.
If when approaching my computer I find that I've remembered to put the mouse on charge overnight, and not left it languishing on the desk dead, that's even better. And, if there's a vestige of memory left regarding the wonderful idea that blossomed into a fantastic story line, just before utter stupefaction enveloped me in bed last night, it's b***** fantastic.
Getting the caffeine and nicotine intake up to the required levels for the most exciting bit of authoring to explode into the literary world since Ernie Hemingway pounded the keys can be accomplished whilst waiting for the computer to start up.
Now the battle commences. Shall we just have a quick look at the email, or leave it until later? Tuning into a decent radio station playing non-thought-preventing music is OK, but what about a quick look at the news headlines?
At this stage of the proceedings, I've found the hardest temptation is succumbing to the irresistible force of having a quick game of Spider or Free Cell, just to get the brain moving. This must be resisted at all costs. Go to the statistics on the game panel and see how many hours, days, and even weeks have been spent over the last year, getting the brain moving – you know I'm right.
No. At least get the essence of the idea down in print. Microsoft Word is summoned up, and you try to rattle the fast fading memory banks while the computer goes through its… well whatever it has to go through for a blank document.
About this time you can hear movement around the home. Before you've finished flexing your fingers, ready for the undoubted blockbuster that is about to burst onto your screen, the nostrils are assailed as family members brew real coffee and slightly burnt toast ejaculates from the toaster. Then the saliva inducing smell of grilling bacon invades your senses, and the sound of eggs sizzling away in the frying pan adds its attack on the taste buds.
It's almost more than the body can bear. You summon up the last trace of self-control and return to the keyboard.
Right, all temptation has been overcome. The mind is set. The fingers poised. Then a tinkling piano reverberates through the speakers. This starts a train of subconscious thought that manifests itself directly into the bladder. No amount of mental blocking procedures can overcome this sensation. A quick squirm and well chosen expletives help not at all. Give in, but here's the rub. The road to relief is by way of the kitchen, and coffee and bacon and hot buttered toast and eggs and . . . .
As you rush past the open kitchen door, the temptation to succumb is overcome with help from a rather anxious bladder, and you make the bathroom still determined to resist all enticement.
An hour later, replenished with bacon, toast, four eggs and two cups of freshly ground coffee, you again sit down at the computer, look up and see a blank page. This scene just about reflects your own memory bank's recollection of the most fantastic story line in history.
Of course the way back to idea regurgitation is a game or two of Solitaire. That always gets the brain back into gear, doesn't it?
Vaguely, a thought that the story concerned falling over whilst dressing flutters though the mists of card-induced anaesthesia . . . but that soon fades too.

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Chris Chapman is a retired old codger living in genteel poverty, but with a host of humorous memories stashed away in what resembles a brain, has been writing humorous nostalgia for many years, (Published in too many to remember, but most very forgetful) coupled with a load of funny stuff accrued from a lifetime wandering around the globe, in a fit of drunken debauchery. Visit or contact Chris:  or

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