Game Of Thrones
I have just lost the last two weeks of my life. Nothing terrible happened, other than that I discovered Game Of Thrones two weeks ago, and I have not been able to do anything until after I managed to squeeze five years of programming into two weeks.
It was something of a feat. I would wake up and watch a quick couple of episodes (they’re only short – around an hour each), sit at my desk and do some work, before spending a couple of happy hours of viewing during the mid-afternoon slump. I would then announce I was going up to bed early, only to spend a good three or four hours watching it in bed.
It has been a disaster. A wonderful, gory, gruesome, compelling, brilliant storytelling disaster. I have ignored both my husband and my children for two weeks. I have not cooked dinner for two weeks. I have barely left my house for two weeks. Emails have gone unanswered, cats have gone unfed, errands have gone unrun.
I have found myself waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if Tyrion Lannister is going to be okay. I have actually found myself muttering, ‘Daenerys Stormborn, House of Targaryen, Mother of Dragons,’ looking around quickly to ensure no one is around to hear.
Last night I cooked for the first time in two weeks, and only because I had reached Season 5, episode 8. I could see the finish line. It would be fine to leave my screen and throw together a bit of kedgeree with leftover salmon.
Today, at approximately 9.23am, I finished my Game Of Thrones marathon. I’m not sure if my timing makes me a winner, but I’m pretty sure I’m close. It’s a marvellous feeling – I feel as if I can breathe again; meet friends for lunch; have conversations with my family.
I wish I wasn’t quite so all or nothing. I can’t do anything in a gentle fashion. I have to go at it full throttle until it’s done, or I’ve had enough, at which point I have a tendency to drop it like a hot stone.
At the moment, what with putting on the David Bowie memorial, and a week after that a play written by a dear friend, I seem to be wearing a producer hat. I am thoroughly enjoying it, and the Westport Country Playhouse, my local theatre, is thoroughly enjoying it too. I have offered to do another two shows for them, and I am very much hoping they say yes, because what they don’t know is that my passions are never terribly longlasting, and if they leave it too long, I may be on to the next thing.
I have a very short window until Game Of Thrones starts season 6. Let’s just hope I don’t find a new obsession before then.
Next week: Chucking out the clutter
It was something of a feat. I would wake up and watch a quick couple of episodes (they’re only short – around an hour each), sit at my desk and do some work, before spending a couple of happy hours of viewing during the mid-afternoon slump. I would then announce I was going up to bed early, only to spend a good three or four hours watching it in bed.
It has been a disaster. A wonderful, gory, gruesome, compelling, brilliant storytelling disaster. I have ignored both my husband and my children for two weeks. I have not cooked dinner for two weeks. I have barely left my house for two weeks. Emails have gone unanswered, cats have gone unfed, errands have gone unrun.
I have found myself waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if Tyrion Lannister is going to be okay. I have actually found myself muttering, ‘Daenerys Stormborn, House of Targaryen, Mother of Dragons,’ looking around quickly to ensure no one is around to hear.
Last night I cooked for the first time in two weeks, and only because I had reached Season 5, episode 8. I could see the finish line. It would be fine to leave my screen and throw together a bit of kedgeree with leftover salmon.
Today, at approximately 9.23am, I finished my Game Of Thrones marathon. I’m not sure if my timing makes me a winner, but I’m pretty sure I’m close. It’s a marvellous feeling – I feel as if I can breathe again; meet friends for lunch; have conversations with my family.
I wish I wasn’t quite so all or nothing. I can’t do anything in a gentle fashion. I have to go at it full throttle until it’s done, or I’ve had enough, at which point I have a tendency to drop it like a hot stone.
At the moment, what with putting on the David Bowie memorial, and a week after that a play written by a dear friend, I seem to be wearing a producer hat. I am thoroughly enjoying it, and the Westport Country Playhouse, my local theatre, is thoroughly enjoying it too. I have offered to do another two shows for them, and I am very much hoping they say yes, because what they don’t know is that my passions are never terribly longlasting, and if they leave it too long, I may be on to the next thing.
I have a very short window until Game Of Thrones starts season 6. Let’s just hope I don’t find a new obsession before then.
Next week: Chucking out the clutter