Inactivity, an emotional response, and a recognisable bum

• With no marathon to aim for, I haven’t run since last week.  This must change, as without the calming and motivating influence of regular exercise I become quite irritable and completely inactive.  And that means I spend a lot of time on the couch watching tele, reading books, and surfing the Net.  Which doesn’t sound like something I should complain about really.  The trouble is, I probably won’t clean the bathroom, iron my shirts, or make healthy lunches to take to work either.  Actually, when I put it like that, it still doesn’t sound like something I should complain about.  But really, irritability and inactivity don’t suit me, and that’s one reason why I’m looking forward to tomorrow when our very good friends from Brisbane will arrive for a weekend visit; my indefatigable friend V never fails to inspire me, so I’m sure she’ll have me running around the streets again by Monday.
• I’m finally coming to the end of The Count of Monte Cristo, who, by the way, I can’t help thinking, turned into a rather nasty man with an unflattering God complex.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, he had it more than tough.  He lost his Father, his girl, and fourteen of the best years of his life, but the way he went after the children of the men who caused his loss was unforgivable.  Anyways, what I really wanted to say was, “Gosh, the characters in this book were an overwrought lot.  Did they drink too much?  I mean, I could understand their emotional conversations then.  I could say really emotional stuff too, if I drank all the time.”  The most disturbing character was Maximilian Morrell, who was a young man Monte Cristo loved without question because  the young man’s father didn’t betray him, and who threatened to suicide if Valentine, his secret love, obeyed her grandparents and parents’ wishes and married another man.  I think his threats were supposed to be romantic and indicative of Morrell’s love for Valentine.  All I could think was “My god, you need counseling!  That’s not romantic, that’s disturbing.  If you were really as brave as everyone said you were you’d be prepared to suffer just like everyone else.  Instead you’re going to spend the rest of your life threatening poor ole Valentine with suicide every time you don’t get your way.  You horrible young man.” 
• I bumped into Eddie on my way home tonight.  He was having some post-pylories drinks at an outside bar with his work-mates and saw me striding across the road to catch my bus.  He leapt off his chair (I imagine…) and caught up to me to say he was having a few drinks and that he recognised my bum and the faded disheveled jacket I was wearing.  Which I thought was a rather brave thing to say for a man who gets nervous when I go shopping.