INDIGESTION

My insides felt like they were made out of stiff cardboard. I found the only way I could get to going to sleep was to lie there like a starfish.

Having fallen asleep like that, I woke up this morning thinking about the date; I was in Canada a year ago. And I was a lot less stressed and a lot less indigested. There was something about Toronto that was so chilled and slowed-down that it almost seemed like another world. I remember time ticking by so slowly there.

Over here though, where I actually live, things are still racing away at a hundred miles an hour. I've got no reason to believe that this will ever change, unless I somehow find a way to put the brakes on. The visionaries around me have ideas and plans and ambitions and they have them all at once. Making them happen though, that's hard work, and there is always a triangular balance between scope, time and cost. Visionaries aren't very good at compromising either the scope or the cost, and I am often left with adjusting time to fit. Culture will not help me to change the speed setting on the treadmill.

This is one of the reasons why I end up with indigestion. Everything happens too quickly, even eating. I'm always gulping down meals that should be enjoyed, and then throwing on my coat while I've still got a mouthful.

These ought to be indications that something is not quite as it should be. Oh, and lying in bed like a starfish.

I'm working on it.