It’s always a bit sore for those of us who are wage slaves, innit? Going back to work on a Monday. What got me up and at’em this morning and what kept me going through the day? (Apart from the opportunity to do a good days work for my employers, obviously.)
Thoughts of the weekend. Sunday was an interesting day joining in the Pitch Party at How Publishing Really Works. (http://howpublishingreallyworks.blogspot.com/)I was a guest blogger and received a few hits from it. People arrived at May Contain Nuts from all over the globe yesterday; Brazil, Tel Aviv and Kilwinning. There were a number of folks from North America too. Welcome. Bem-vindo. ברוך הבא. Howzitgaun, doll.
I also got a chance to check out some excellent blogs that I will mos-def (I am so down with the kids) be keeping up with.
I was sooooo well organised this morning – and I think for the first time in my adult life, I hung a washing out before going to work. Go me. Regulars here will know I am no great shakes in the housework front. It’s fair to say if I ever had a break-in the burglars would have to do a tidy-up first. As for the washing, it provided a bit of a mystery (cue spooky music). You know how people complain that they lose socks? Well my washing machine ...wait for it...breeds vests. Small white ones. For fear of shredding whatever miniscule amount of street-cred I possess let me add that I haven’t worn one since I was 11. (Vests, short trousers AND wellington boots – what were they thinking?)
Driving up a country road to work my eyes were drawn to a scene in a field. A farmer was strolling along a field in his jaunty blue overalls. He was being followed by a group of young cows – a gaggle? They were so not a herd. Anyway, they were like ten feet behind the farmer in a tight wee group, keeping the exact same distance from him for the full two or three minutes they were in my sight. In my mind the farmer stopped suddenly and so did the cows. Then he started up again. So did the cows. He stopped. So did the cows. Well, it made my journey to work a wee bit more interesting.
The day passes fairly quickly. I do stuff. I talk to people about stuff. Go home.
On the way home from work, I was held up by a group of bikers. Two learners and an instructor. Nothing, let me repeat that NOTHING, would get me on the back of a motorbike, short of a six-book deal from a major publishers and a movie tie-in. In fact it’s fair to say I’d rather trim my pubes with a blow-torch.
Had a look at the work in progress tonight. A quick word count and I realised that I’d written 6,000 words since coming home from Cliff Cottage. That’s not too shabby. If I was writing full-time that could be done in day, but I’m giving myself a break – I have a mortgage to pay and at the moment my writing doesn’t do that. (I just wish it would FECKING hurry up.) I’m not bitter. Anywho, I had a read through and it actually reads better than I expected. Sometimes I write stuff, look at it and think – what bastard stole in to my house and wrote utter crap on my computer? Othertimes I’m like – whoa, am I a genius or what? Publishers,publishers wherefore art thou, publishers? (Cos they all speak pseudo-shakespearean.) Today was closer to the latter. This is me feeling smug. A wee sidebar for those of you just launching into your magnum opus – accept the credit, but don’t take the blame.
I’m now off to the gym to work off some fatness – and an eight pack of twirls. Cheerio. Adeus. להתראות. See ya.
