Today I am still going for the Olympic medal for Snorting like an Old Horse – well, we have to win something at the Great Games, don’t we? And I am also minuting for Britain, so what the heck, maybe I’ll go for that one too. You never know your luck.

Still, at least after last week’s fiasco, I’ve managed to fit in a calming morale-boosting chat with the boss, who is always so good at this kind of stuff. So am now feeling more like a normal human being. Don’t know how long that will last then … To the end of the day might be good!...

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Thought I'd add a touch of spring to our lives seeing as winter is blundering swiftly towards us; it's been raining on and off here for the last couple of days. I took my coat on Saturday and ended up taking it off and having to drag it around town with me - the sun arrived and stayed all day! My other excuse for using images instead of words is that my finger nails are clicking on the keyboard...and I'm in procrastination mode too.



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Hey, I’ve discovered a way to keep breathing when attempting to sleep whilst ill – if I get a bundle of spare pillows and pile them all up underneath, I don’t feel sick when I lie down as I’m so propped up that I might as well be sitting up anyway. Result! Which gives me one fairly good night’s sleep, better breathing and – sadly – a cricked neck. Ah well, there’s always a downside, eh … But never mind – it did the trick, so I don’t care. And I’m definitely doing that again the next time one of these nasty bouts rears its ugly head.

Scary moment on the way to work today – a couple of cars on the A3 had obviously bumped each other so were parked in the slow lane and exchanging details. Insults too – as I passed, the man standing up slammed his hands against the window of the other driver (still in his vehicle) and swore virulently at him. Lord but I hate these road rage moments – they’re soooo frightening. Yes, I know I should maybe have stopped but I’m way too much of a coward – and I was at least reassured by the fact that Angry Man was walking back to his own vehicle when I looked in my rear-view mirror. So at least he hadn’t murdered anyone. Yet. Ways to keep breathing for us all then …

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A gorgeous short story publication landed in my mailbox this morning. Called Minishots, they are produced by Vignette Press, a twelve-year-old "indie publishing outfit", as they describe themselves, operating out of Melbourne, Australia. So far they have produced 7 Minishots, which are stunning-looking small magazines each containing one story. Here is a selection of the front covers....

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Ho hum, it's back to the doctor's for me, I think. Had something of a rough night last night - though thankfully not as rough as it's been in the past. And, hey, I did get a lot of sudokus done, so it's not all bad news. But I still think I need something stronger from the medical powers that be to kick my ear/nose/throat problems into touch. Or at least more into touch than they are currently! Also, looking back in my diary, I can see I had the selfsame thing exactly one month ago - so nobody can accuse me of not being regular. On such stalwart reliability was the Empire won ... And lost indeed ...

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Just back from spain started night school.
I thought I was going to improve my punctuation and grammer.
First things first introductions to fellow pupils followed by spelling test. One of the first words in the spelling test Diarrhoea. Honest! I thought what have I let myself in for. Still maybe it will get better at least I hope it will.
Joe

Sigh. Deep deep sigh. I know I'm probably going to get throttled (virtually only, I hope) for this, but I've just finished Alaa Al Aswany's The Yacoubian Building, and I'm still attempting to raise myself from the slough of utter boredom it cast me into. (Pause to make a mental note never ever to be seduced by the phrase, "International Bestseller", again, and never at any cost to believe anyone who tells me they know I'd love it. No matter how close the person doing the telling ...). In the words of the great Catherine Tate: what a load of s**t!!! Mind you, it did have a good first two pages. No, a grand and classy first two pages. But really and truly I should have stopped there. By the time I was on page 22, I knew it was a no-hoper and I just didn't care enough about anyone. Way way too much telling and info dumping, and not enough showing. Or maybe that's just the Egyptian way of writing? I don't know and, frankly, I can't be arsed to find out either. I skimmed lightly through the rest of it, knowing that noble Lord H had bought it for me as I'd asked him to - and the relief when I came to the words, "The End", was indescribable.

I then turned to the front and my eye was caught by a puff (writerly word for a nice quote given by another writer) from Patrick Gale (hmm, can I even put those words in that sentence without being sued??), which said: "An Egyptian Tales of the City ... I was furious when it ended. Sequels, please!" Oh Lord, no. I should have known ...

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Tis true, and was proved last night. I'd been invited to attend a 'special evening viewing' of an exhibition on Cheshire's literary heritage held at the Salt Museum in Northwich. I went last night, not really knowing what to expect (well, you wouldn't really, would you?). After a brief and friendly chat with a couple of staff members I was ushered into the room where all the guests were being held. I accepted a glass of water and waited for things to commence.



I must have stood there for about five minutes before I realised that I was going to struggle to engage anyone in conversation. Some clearly weren't all that keen on even returning smiles. But they don't know me and I don't know them and I suppose they might not have been there to talk to people - and in my motorcycle jacket I could have been anyone/trouble/lost.



And then a lady and her husband walked in and ended up heading my way. They nodded and smiled, as did I, and pretty soon we were having a great old chat. It turned out that, not only was the lady, Gee Williams, a fellow author (you can order her book, Salvage, - which sounds marvellous - here) but we also share a writer friend.



From then on the evening was great. The exhibition was fab. They had original typescripts of Robert Westall's, The Machine Gunners, his typewriter, medieval writing implements (not his), stuff on Alan Garner, Lewis Carroll, Elizabeth Gaskell... all sorts. Well worth a look if you're in the area.



And at some point, people started to smile at each other.



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Unrequited is now available for direct order from the printer. Hopefully, it will appear on Amazon by the end of next week, if not sooner, so finally, I have a novel out there in the big wide world!!!

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I’m singing Abba’s I do I do I do as I write this. One of the guys from my writing group got married on Tuesday so he brought in a box of favours today, with cake and everything. I chose a CD of the music they had at the ceremony and party; it’s classic cheese, including YMCA, Shania Twain and Amarillo – of course it was a civil partnership. So, a great start to the day; cake and favours of chocolate pretending to be sugared almonds, and now relaxing on my bed with the lovely Shania wailing (with me) ‘From This Moment On’, and twiddling with sunset photos I took from my window the other night…ooooh, and just as I speak there’s another one just beginning. Life is nice tonight.

Oh, and i think I've managed to change the settings of comments so anyone can leave one without all that hassle.


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