Week off - Day 4 - Snot Bucket

Yup. Dat's Be. Snot Bucket.

You have to read dis ibagining you have a blocked dose.

I feel really boorly. Got a bad cowd. I thought I'd write dis anyway. But I don't feel like I want to spend too long writing.

Just wanna sleep.

Typical - getting sick on a week off work.

See y'all later.

Week Off - Day 3 - The Bonny Tilers

Corny, I know.

Well, it got you reading, didn't it?

And I bet you have an inkling what Mrs D and I have been up to today.

The floor in the downstairs loo. I was quite daunted by the task - but we did it! In very good time too.

Looks really good.

Cherie is finishing the grouting whilst I take William to his guitar lesson.

We struggled cutting the tiles. They're quite thick and weak. Like some people I know.

Kidding - you're all awesome!

The tiles are hard to actually cut and once cut, they're hard to snap without breaking. I had borrowed a tile cutter (thanks Andy C) but it wasn't up to the job I'm afraid. I tried cutting with my Dremel ("Dremel's don't cut", I'm reminded, "they grind!"). Well, it was unexpectedly successful but I found myself going through too many carbon discs.

I went out and bought an inexpensive (I thought) electric tile cutter. What a piece of kit! From Homebase.

Yes, I thought you'd be shocked, I was too. You can get up off the floor now.

After the whole "paint stripper" shenanigans of the other week I thought I'd never buy anything from there again.

I was really impressed by it. Water cooled, dontcha know. Diamond edged blade.

Ooooh!

All the tiles were cut straight and neat, very few breakages (the tile to blame not the cutter). But I did get "tile milk" everywhere - a white mixture of water and tile dust that seems to appear randomly everywhere and isn't easy to get rid of. You should have seen my hair!

Ghostly!

So, the floor is now tiled. Walls, radiator and woodwork are painted.

Another job from the work queue finished.

Next, please.

Week Off - Day 2: The Terminator

We went to visit Cathy in her new flat in Bury today. It's really lovely. She made us a terrific vegetable tart.

But today's blog has to be about something else.

Because I have to mention the guy I saw at the end of our street.

There are roadworks on the road at the end of our estate, blocking the exit to Union Road. Over the past few days, there have been guys in day-glo workman's jackets directing traffic. I don't think they're with the council, or whoever it is who is digging up the road. They look more like they are working for Oswaldtwistle Mills, directing people into the car park as a kind of sign to show they're still open for business and accessible to all those guilded consumers. They wait idly for an approaching elderly couple in a car and then point absently at an empty parking space.

But today's guy was different. Today's guy strutted.

Today's guy wore a jacket that boldy declared "Security" across the back. Today's guy looked mean.

Today's guy was...

The Terminator.

We set off from home to go to pick up Christina ready to head off to Cathy's pad. There he was standing importantly in the centre of the junction at the end of the street, boldly challenging all traffic.

He noticed my car as I drove up Orchard Drive. He spun urgently and dashed over with an air of facist importance, the metal rims of his sunglasses glinting in the bright glare. As I approached he slowed his pace then stopped. He expression changed slowly into a knowing smile. He gave me one of those man-to-man looks like we had a shared secret; sort of an "I know who you are!" grin. Then he continued nodding slowly at me as I drove out onto Moscow Mill Street.

I imagined him thinking,

"That was a close one! He nearly got me then. But don't worry. He's one of us. That guy's on our side. Go get 'em tiger".

I checked in my rear view mirror, he was still watching us and grinning proudly. I almost expected to see him salute as we drove away. Maybe he'd then put his hand to his ear, listen to some coded message being piped in through a secret headset and then dart off randomly. Protecting who knows what from the not sure who.

Tonight I will sleep soundly in my bed knowing that The Terminator is confidently guarding Moscow Mill Street; pacing back and forth in Ossy Mills car park.

Keep it up, soldier.

Week Off - Day 1

Guess what, Drainers! I'm off work!

Woo hoo!

And so is the Mrs! OMG - at the same time!

Are you surprised? Shocked, even? The Deankins, at home during the week? Together? No kids?

You'd think there'd be all kinds of holiday shenanigans. Tomfoolary, larks, japes and many other generally good things going on.

How about... decorating. Painting. Sanding. Tiling. Drilling. Screwing (with a screwdriver... I don't know; your dirty mind...)

Barrels of laughter. Ho ho ho! He he he!

Boo hoo hoo - more like.

I jest - I'm not really phased by this at all. In fact, I'm positively grinning.

I get to spend time with my beautiful flower girl. And that bathroom really does need finishing.

If we don't do it now, it'll never be completed!

So, I raise my paintbrush high; defiant. Let the paint scraper be my sword and the tile cement spreader be my shield as I bravely go into battle with a bare room full of negative feng shui.

See you on the other side!

Chaaaaarge!!!!

Steam Punkery

The Mad March Tea Party was hugely enjoyable. I had a whale of a time. The costumes were a feast for the eyes. The pro punkers had some dandy intricate accessories. But honestly, I think us Steam Punk virgins did a fairly impressive job.

Caroline and David made some terrific goggles. Good work!

Kerry seemed to enjoy herself. She did seem to have gone a little bit insane towards the end, but that's allowed on your birthday.

It was great to see everyone there; and to see how much effort everybody had put in.

The whole thing was very well organised yet had an organic feel to it. The idea of an authentic tea party was genius.

I really liked Katya's tea urn. An amazing piece of artistic kitchen equipment. Every home should have one.

Looking through the photos on BookFace, (and yes, we still have to upload ours) it is clear that we all had a good time. At the end, everyone pitched in to clear up. Again, rather organically it seemed. All of a sudden, there was a spontaneous whirl of activity as chairs and tables were stacked around the room.

It seemed to me that there was an after party just waiting to happen. But unfortunately, it didn't happen.

I particularly enjoyed the company of a beautiful flower girl. A gave her a sixpence and she gave me a posie. Later, I took her for a ride in Hackney cab and we became well acquainted.

And who knows; more there'll be more flowers later.

Mad March is Almost Here

End of another busy day. I can't believe that we've done so much in only a 24 hour period.

I blitzed the house this morning. We hosted a Buddhist leaders' meeting. We went shopping for birthday presents. We wrapped the presents. We went to a rehearsal for the Victorian swimming [just as bonkers as last time]. We went to a birthday party. Cherie did box office for Volga Olga. I put the finishing touches to the steam punk outfit. We ordered Indian [safe Indian for Cherie] and watched a surprisingly excellent movie called "Defendor".

I recommend the movie - don't be put off by what you think it might be. It looks like a superhero spoof movie. It's not. I found it quite moving - it reawakened a little of my faith in my fellow man.

Tomorrow is the Mad March Tea Dance steam punk thing - and Kerry's 50th. Kosen Rufu in the morning at our house - and I'm hoping that lots of smiling happy people will come to chant with us.

Today I feel like a rich man. Not in wealth. In friends and happiness.

Love you all.

Prayer for the Lost

At the writing table at the Hangout on Wednesday, I wrote a short piece inspired by Ian's "Writer's Block" book. I had to write a story in the form of a prayer.

I really enjoyed writing it and people were surprised by how much I'd written in a short time.

Hope you enjoy it - it's rather silly.


Our Father,

Who art in heaven, I have have a bit of a problem. I suppose I should start at the beginning. But then again, you probably know all about it already. After all, you are omnipresent.

It must be hard, omnipresence. Not the physical splitting of yourself to cover such a large area, although that does sound fairly nasty. No, I'm talking about the sensory input. Seeing many glorious and terrible things sights from across the globe. Hearing tales and prayers from all of humanity.

Must be exhausting.

If you can find time in your busy deity schedule, could I ask you to keep an eye out? You see, my dog ran off. George he's called. A border collie. I've had him for fourteen faithful years.

Then he just took off.

I thought we were friends. When I stroke his soft fur it comforts us both. He sits at my feet on cold nights in front of the roaring log fire.

He's never brought me slippers, but then again, I tend not to wear them. But I just get this deep knowing feeling when I gaze into his deep mournful eyes that if I had slippers he would joyfully leave them by the bed.

He's that kind of friend. But now he's gone.

And I can't help feeling it's my fault. Because he's on Aldi dog food now. The prime juicy chunks had been replaced by dry ashy biscuits.

Maybe I'm over analysing but he's the kind of animal you know is wiser than you.

And now he's gone.

Please God, keep him safe.

Amen

Goggles and Pens

Two things that you don't tend to put together. But I will explain.

Eventually.

But first, I'm going to have to apologise for my appalling lack of blogarithms these last few days. Un-for-givable.

I do have an excuse though. I have been really busy.

What with the Victorian swimming meeting, work, buddhist meetings, work, the Artists' Hangout, work, the Mad March Steampunk Tea Party, work and work, it's been kinda ker-azy.

So where do I start?

Hanging out. At the hangout. Writing stuff.

It took quite a lot of organisation and co-ordination with Nina, but nothing we couldn't handle. We were running a creative writing table, you see. A first for the hangout. I think we did rather well, even if I do say so myself. I know that I thoroughly enjoyed it. Almost the best Hangout ever!

(I say 'almost' because I remember Hallowe'en!)

We had a constant stream of pen pushers busily jotting all evening. On post-it notes, on paper, on the table and on each other. We even had one person who was willing to read their poem out!

Brave soul.

To help the thought process, we had The Chest of Inspiration full of bizarre objet d'art, a picture box full of expertly [* :-) *] laminated photos, Nina's old books without their jackets, the wonderful artworks on the walls and (my personal favourite) a book donated by Ian called the "Writer's Block". I used that to write a peice. If I remember, I'll post it tomorrow.

I'll need lots of 'Likes' for encouragement, so get your clicking fingers ready.

But what, you say, has all that got to do with the title?

Well... I'm glad you asked.

It kind of covers the 'pens' part of the title - although there's a less happy story there too. You see, I took my best writing pen to the Hangout. It was a present that I particularly liked. It was one of those pens that you can use to write a space opera when actually in space! Designed by NASA. Astro-tastic.

That pen and I spent many a happy hour together. [* sigh *]. It went to the Hangout, but didn't come back. I searched frantically but could not see any trace of its liquid silvery sheen.

Oh well, it's only a pen. And pens don't write stories, people do. And word processors ;-)

I saw Francine at the Hangout. She brought me a cane for the Steampunk thing. Huge thanks if you're reading this, BTW.

She was expecting something back from me to help with her costume, but, alas, the message asking for this had become garbled en-route and I didn't know. Me fail.

She needed some cogs 'n' stuff and her internet ordered goggles were looking less and less likely to arrive from Eastern Europe in time. So I promised to help her make some new ones.

I went out and got the stuff today - they'll be slightly smaller than my pair. Francine is coming round tomorrow evening to help make them. Given that they need a few coats of paint, I've already done most of the work on the frame. I've also given them a primary coat of spray paint. They just need perspex lenses, 'leather' eyecups and a strap.

I am hugely looking forward to the tea dance just to see the hard work everyone's put into their outfits.

If you're lucky, I might post photos! It's on Sunday.

Oh - one more thing. Cherie and I are on holiday from work next week. Feet up. Can't wait.

I'm not sure what that means for the blog. I think it's a good thing.

I also have some more material for another entry in my technical blog "Strongly Typed". I'll probably do that tomorrow, so you brainy drainers will have to wait.

Missing you already.

Getting Excited

I'm all excited now. Fired up for the creative writing group at the Artists' Hangout.

It's going to be really good fun.

Please, please come down and visit us at Cafe Cargo on Wednesday. We'd all love to see you!

Not much of a blog post today, but it's been another busy day.

Virtual hugs.

Good Times

Had a mental weekend. Whoa!

And I reckon it's going to be a fairly mental week! Followed by another weekend of wonder and mirth.

Started off yesterday trying to strip the paint off two radiators. How is that mental, you ask. Well, it isn't. It's dull. And hard work. Notice I said 'trying' to strip two radiators. The paint was stuck like brown smelly stuff to a blanket.

I rubbed and I scrubbed and no paint came off. And no radiator genies offered me three wishes.

I wonder what I would wish for? I wonder what a radiator genie looks like?

[*Ash, stick to the point *]

Oh yes, blankets.

So, off I go to Homebase for some paint stripper. Applied it as per instructions. It bloody reeked. Waited the required 40 mins and began the stripping action. Did the paint peel off effortlessly as the blurb on the tin said it would?

Nope. Blankets.

I tried about 6 coats of the smelly green snotlike substance. Still no luck.

So, William and I watched a movie.

Cherie had been out in Heysham glass fusing. She came back wearing a teal coloured turban and a huge smile. I think Cherie, Caroline and Nina had been entertaining each other.

I saw Caroline's photos. Loved the 'Rock Dog'.

Then we went to the movies to see Cloud Atlas. Nina and Nat's girlfriend came with us. It was absolutely dead! Only about 20 people in the cinema and we were six of them. There were so many of us we'd had to travel in 2 cars!

Cloud Atlas was terrific. We all loved it.

It was late, so I took Nat's girlfriend home before going to bed.

Today we had the first "Buddhist Basics Brunch" at Kerry's. We didn't expect anyone to show, but Kerry's very inspiring friend Katya was there and so was Venessa. Katya is new to the practice and although Venessa has been coming for a while, we hadn't seen her at a meeting in months due to holidays and illness.

We listened to chapter one of "The Buddha, Geoff and Me" by Eddie Camfor-Dumas. I love the simplicity of it. I've heard it before but I took so much more out of it today.

When it was over we talked about swimming and diving suits. Katya offered to talk to William about his interest in becoming a marine biologist.

After, Cherie and I went to a rehearsal/planning meeting for the "Weather or Not" event. We're doing a wild swimming thing in a Victoriana style. Basically, it involved chatting and doing silly dances.

I can remember a time when I would not have believed that I would spend an afternoon doing silly dances in preparation to doing it in full in front of a crowd.

But, blimely, how my life has grown.

I remember when I started going to Buddhist meetings, someone asked me if I was ready. Yes, I said cynically. Well, why wouldn't I be? What is there to be ready for?

He explained to me that I would notice two things. That my life would grow until I wondered how I was going to fit everything in. I can tell you now that the guy was right.

The other thing he said is that unexpected things would haunt me from the past. By stirring up the still pond of your seemingly placid existence the sediment hidden at the bottom would churn and make the water muddy before gradually settling to leave a crystal pool.

Another way of looking at it is to imagine a garden hose left outside over the winter. You come to use it in summer and when you turn on the tap out comes all the crap before any of the clear water.

That's the bit you need to be ready for.

And it happened. Within the second year of chanting, I became a company director, something that I'd always wanted, and found I hated it because I was not cut out to be a corporate shirt. But, it was too late. Make or break.

I broke. Things went pear shaped.

But I addressed the problems, and now, workwise, things are looking up. I'm still not where I want to be, but I feel less trapped and more likely to get there eventually.

Also, Cherie and I hit hard times. I won't go into the details, but we had our own muddy waters to swim in.

We both took action and that particular poison became medicine. I'm a better husband because of it.

I'm a better person because of it.

At the moment, my life is richer than it has ever been. I hope it stays that way.

I've started writing this blog every day. Well, most days. I missed yesterday's because Cloud Atlas was about 3 hours long.

And this Wednesday, I'm running a Creative Writing group at the Artists' Hangout with Nina. Again, something I've always dreamed of being able to do but never imagined that one day I'd actually be doing it.

There's the Mad March Steam Punk Tea Party next Sunday (which I double booked with a visit to Taplow that I've had to cancel), another Weather or Not practice on Saturday afternoon. Men's meeting on Monday. Chapter planning on Saturday morning.

Still got the bloody radiators to strip. Then tile the bathroom floor. Paint the walls. Put up the new towel rail and toilet roll holder.

How I am going to find time to go to work?

Broken Tile

Hello there! Always a pleasure.

I've been trying to think of a subject to write about this evening adnd kinda coming up blank. What's been the highlight of today? Did anything in particular stand out?

William came to stay this weekend. And I was lucky enough to see my elusive yet wonderful daughter.

I bought some tiles. Nice ones. They're for the new floor in the downstairs loo.

They were quite cheap too. When you added in the cement, grout and tools the price doubled! I'm looking forward to putting them down.

But, worryingly, I broke one of the tiles. The guy in the shop replaced it for nothing. It practically just crumbled in my hand. The thing that concerns me is how easily it broke. I just picked it up and it fell into pieces. Cripes, I hope that doesn't happen to the rest of them.

Or worse, they go down fine and break when you walk on them.

Let's see.

Adrian called tonight. Was good to have a chat - not spoken properly for ages. Need to plan a boys' night out. Grrrr!

Going to go now - I've left it late again.

Hugs n stuff.

Top Hat

Yes, my top hat arrived. The one I managed to win on eBay.

It fits, as Ace Ventura would say, like a glove. A head glove.

It's fairly awesome.

We had some really bad news at work today. But I'm not going to say much about it.

It'll bring us all down.

So I'm concentrating on the good bits of today. Like the hat.

This evening, Cherie and I cuddled on the sofa watching a film called The Good Night. It was about a man who felt unfulfilled because his other half was unhappy. He started having lucid dreams of a fantasy woman. He eventually met her. What he hadn't realised was that all of the negativity was coming from him. This was affecting his real girlfriend who eventually left him. It also came out to the dream girl. And she buggered off too. In the end, he tried to make a go of it with real woman but ended up in a car accident which left in unconscious and stuck in his dream world.

The music was lovely. The cast was quite stellar.

This weekend we're going to see Cloud Atlas. Now there's a cast - must have cost a fortune!

So, drainers, it's another late school night and I'm off to bed.

A Poem

These are things I like to do,
When I am spending time with you.

Walking in a frosty wood,
Doing what two lovers should.

Feeling sun upon my face,
In some exotic far off place.

Laughing at each others jokes,
And maybe those of other folks.

Holding you so very tight,
Throughout a chilly winter night.

Collecting shells from off the sand,
Playing, running hand in hand.

Watching films on the big screen,
Then chat about what we've just seen.

Driving places far away,
All through the night and through the day.

Loving you between the sheets,
Doing acrobatic feats.

Eating in a cosy pub,
Munching on each other's grub

Dancing to a rhythmic beat,
In a club, then in the street.

Relaxing in a steamy tub,
Maybe give your back a rub.

Chilling with our closest friends,
Who hope the party never ends.

Smiling warmly all my life,
Cos I'm so proud that you're my wife.

Oops - bad me.

Sorry. Didn't post yesterday.

I iz well bad, innit.

It was a very busy day - and not an entirely happy one. So blogging was last on the priority list.

But today's a different day. It is 5:30pm and I'm still at work, killing time before going to pick up William for his guitar lesson at 6:30.

So what shall we talk about? The news? The weather? Food?

Let's stick with the last one. The other two are fairly tedious. Food's not so exciting either, I hear you shout. But, oh no, how wrong you are. How wrong.

I have something to say about food. Or the lack of it.

I've decided that I'm going to eat more healthily and much less. So it's carrot sticks and celery for me. Soon, I'll have the body of an athlete. [* Ash, I've told you before, stop being dramatic - body of a sofa jockey, more like *]

You see, when I was single I used to regularly cut back on my food to keep myself in shape. It becomes much harder when you're not cooking for one. And then there's a knock at the door - and it's Mr Belly bringing his gift of middle aged spread.

But Cherie is on a special diet, and Nat tends to just have his vegetarian stuff. So - back on the salad for me!

Looking forward to a life less tubby.

Note to Self

It was the Ceilidh yesterday. Awesome fun with awesome people.

When it was over, in true Wild Swimming style, we went back to someone's house for a bit of a do (thanks Franci).

Like you do.

But my headache came back. And I started getting tired. And hungry.

And grumpy.

Not wanting to upset anyone by having to leave early, I tried to stick it out. But the grumps built up.

I'm hugely sorry if I let my grumps rub off onto anyone - please accept my apologies. You see, that wasn't me. I'm a bit like the hulk but without the tight trousers. When David Banner was angry (in my case grumpy) he'd transform into a creature of power and emotion, devoid of logic and compassion.

My green menace came up and I'd had enough. I hope that not too many swimmers had to bear the brunt of it. You're all so lovely.

But hulky did say some stupid things to some people and I want to take it all back. And I want to change my karma so that he never shreds any shirts in future. Or at least if he does, he doesn't upset anybody.

So I've written a questionnaire that I'll keep with me. In times of stress/grumpiness/anger/over-tiredness I'll make a point of filling it in.

Please fill in the following form

Delete as appropriate

Do you feel tired?	Yes/No
Do you feel hungry?	Yes/No
Have you had too much coffee?	Yes/No
Do you feel overly and irrationally emotional?	Yes/No

If the answer to any of the above questions is Yes, 

then please, 

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

Late Post

Evening everybody.

Don't feel up to a post tonight I'm afraid. I've written quite a lot today already!

But it's late and I'm cream crackered. And I have a headache.

Moan... moan... moan....

So rather than bring us all down, I'll just sign off by saying that I'm really looking forward to seeing everyone at the Ceilidh tomorrow.

A drum and bass Ceilidh.

What'll they think of next?

Steaming Ahead

Blimey, are you back again?

Didn't expect to see you so soon. You're a glutton for punishment; letting me drain my brain all over you.

Want some more? No, you say?

Tough. Pin back your lugholes and let the tsunami that is today's brain drain wash you swirling down the plughole of experience.

Is that a good thing? [*Must. Work. On. Positive. Imagery*].

I've been a proper busy wittle bee today. Which is surprising, given how knackered I thought I'd be after yesterday's complete mad-a-thon at the One Billion Rising event in Manchester.

What larks! [*understatement*].

Singing, dancing, smiling. Lots of smiling.

Can I just say that Ailsa is incredible at getting people to feel at ease. I was really nervous about doing the whole "Something inside" thing. Me? Sing? In front of actual people?

Avin a larf, int'cha?

Well I did it. And I loved it.

The buzz afterwards! It kept me going for the rest of the night. Well, that and the espresso.

Whirling dervish comes to mind. If you think Franky and I battle-walzting was bad - think again. They had St John's Ambulance on stand-by. I was like a man possessed. Not by a demon, but by the spirit of some African tribal shaman. [Ash, stop being dramatic]. Let's call him Shaun; Shaun the shaman.

I proper loved the whole evening. Thanks to Meg for making it all happen.

Genius.

Which brings me back to today. How did I manage to function? Not entirely sure; but I was full of a creative energy which was almost entirely due to Shaun and his shamanic influences.

I cleaned. I tidied. I put things on walls. I changed walls. I shopped (a bit). I read a couple of chapters of my book about the philosophy of artificial intelligence. I drove around with the roof down (it was 14C in the sun at one point today, folks!).

But, most importantly, I Steam Punked! And, yes, it is a verb.

No, please, sit back down. Don't go to get the dictionary, just take my word for it.

OK, fine. It's not an actual word. I blame Shaun again.

I steam punked. I fused bits of leather, studs and chains into various accessories for my costume.

Hang on... I've just read that back. I'm concerned it gives the wrong impression.

It reads a bit, well, pervy. For those of you who don't steam punk, it's not what you might think.

Honest.

My costume's almost complete. I just have one more article that I need - and there's one on eBay. I've got my beady eye on it.

A top hat. A proper victorian one.

Fingers crossed. The auction ends tomorrow. Really, really excited - I've never really done eBay before. I'll let you know how it goes.

And don't go bidding on it! I'll know. Shaun the shaman can read your mind with his voodoo ju-ju. And he's probably much better at eBay than I am.

The sun's gone down and I think that my brain is well and truly drained. I feel, [*deep inhale*], cleansed.

How was it for you?

I think Shaun enjoyed it.

Who's a Naughty Boy, Then

Eep. It's true. I'm naughty.

I'm having a lardy breakfast at the axis of evil.

Must. Whip. Self. Soundly.

When I've finished my McMuffin.

Location:FatDonald's

One Billion Rising

Ok. I'd love to write pages and pages about today's events, but they've taken up so much of the day that there's no time left!

We've just come back from performing, dancing, spectating at the One Billion Rising event in Manchester raising awareness of violence towards women.

I'd taken two days off work for this. One to prepare and one to recover.

What a terrific evening. I was singing as part of a choir in front of an audience. And doing African dancing.

Mad or what?

Anyway, drainers. It's way past bedtime for this old man.

Toodles.

Location:Home

On Writing

Hi there drainers. Glad you could make it.

I've switched from typing this on my iPad to using a laptop. At least, until I get the iPad back. It's gone on a little holiday. Someone from work has borrowed it.

Oddly, words flow better when you're using a tactile keyboard. Go figure.

I've been mainly cooking today. Well, at least, that's how it felt. Cooking and washing up. And working, but just ignore that last one.

After all the cooking I went round to Nina's to begin the organisation of the very exciting event we're due to host at the Artist's Hangout this February.

You see, we're doing a writing workshop. It's a first for the Hangout; there's been visual art and performance art but not really any creative writing. So it's all a bit new and exciting.

I'm going to be doing more writing tomorrow - I'm on holiday from work - and I'll try to make tomorrow's post a really absorbing read. But tomorrow's writing will be mostly about the plan for the workshop event and the associated website blurb.

They say writing's like a muscle. The more you exercise it, the stronger it becomes. Using that analogy, my writing muscle needs to pull its finger out and get down the gym more often. It needs to stop sitting in front of the TV, get up off its arse and make itself useful for a change. And while its at it, it couldn't hurt to put the washer on a few times a week or help with the recycling. And will it put its bloody guitar away - it'll only go blaming everybody else when it gets damaged because it was left on the sofa and somebody sat on it.

Erm... Got carried away a bit there. Took the metaphor a bit too far and got lost in a world of messy teenagers.

Like you do.

Anyway, fun as this is, I should go.

Hugs n stuff.