Saturday, 30 March 2013

A Wee bit from "Two All - All for One".

A wee section from the book I'm busy formatting when I amn't blogging complete gibberish.  Some of the names I'm not using  here because I don't want to spoil any wee reveals for anyone who may be bold enough to read the whole thing when I eventually get it published on kindle - I'll just use empty brackets. Here goes........

   "Sounds like you have an actual Guardian Angel," ( ) said.
   "Guardian Psycho more like," Degs interjected.  Layla snorted out a laugh before she could stop herself. ( ) gave them both a dirty look.
   "Aw, come on, that was funny," she said, funny and true, by the way, she does seem to be...fairly fucking mental." She put up her hands in a conciliatory manner. "Hey, I'm not saying it's a bad thing!"
   "This 'psycho' saved my life - probably all of our lives, so can it, both of you," ( ) told them.

   The Guardian's eyes flickered open then and she shakily raised her head to look around at them all for moment.
   "I must sleep again now," she said closing her eyes. "But before I do I will tell you a story.  Once, long before any of you existed in any form at all, there were a people who were misguided enough to worship me as a god.  They made sacrifices of their enemies to appease me - to quell my wrath.  I found it dull, so I decided to enliven things by decapitating anyone who dared look upon me, and in those days, I was a sight to behold.  But you humans are an adaptable species and soon learned. So I began decapitating anyone who had the audacity not to gaze at me in awe.  And why did I do these things? Because it amused me," she paused. "That, I believe, was the behaviour of a psychcopath or a 'psycho', if you will.
"I do still have my decapitating sword, but nowadays I only use it to prop open a window in the summer.  I have come a long way. However, it you people do not all buzz off and leave me in peace - I may well regress."

Friday, 29 March 2013

PUTTING UP AND SHUTTING UP !!

Am DEEPLY ashamed to have suggested my blog isn't a democracy - the power to talk crap has clearly gone to my head - it is, of course............MY DOMAIN - HE HE HE - ah, feck sorry, what I meant was a place where people could feel free free to say what they liked (except Andrea boxesbellows.blogspot.com)

Putting up and shutting up - yep, time to bite the bullet............have been banging on about my book so - tomorrow I'm going to post a section to prove it isn't a figment of my imagination.

(crap, crap, crap, crap - pant peeing, crap) NO - I really will throw it out there into cyber-land and why? Because I'm a devil-may-care sort of daft old bugger - windswept and dangerous with a hide like a bloody rhino  (NOT!)
xx

Wednesday, 27 March 2013

Life Beyond the Cattle grid, democracy and Aimee Man

It had been 17 days and 8 hrs since I had gone beyond........THE CATTLE GRID...di. di di.niiiiiiiiii!! But - a Community Shop event required me (for I run around between 9 and 5pm, some days of the week, pretending I am in charge of our one - *snort*) - they obvs needed a master class in what not to do.

Lovely day, lovely people - saw parts of the island/s  I didn't know - but...... kind of, could of guessed what they'd look like (places not people). However, always good to have one's preconceptions confirmed; insures a person knows for sure what planet they're on - which is always good - I think.

Feel free to disagree. I will, of course, assume you're an idiot.

WHAT!? THIS IS MY BLOG, NOT A DEMOCRACY!!
Big Dxx

PS, And a thank you to my bold driver (The Crofter) for  adequately attempting the treacherous paths we traversed.

Tonight's tune: the fabulous Aimee Mann: "I Know There's A Word For This."

Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Punctuating Mild Profanities

Okay, ahem, did anyone notice my DELIBERATE error at the end of my learn-ed discourse on the Smirking Jacket (a staple in any "whack jobs" wardrobe - Mickandbee www.yachthannah.co.uk! - still trying to catch the badger - be with you soon as - matching pair is it or one to share?). Grinning Jodhpurs are also a vital - VITAL - component for the sartorially elegant and mildly entertained. Any hoo - at the end I had written: "A crap that made me smirk blah blah blah". Now just to make this entirely clear I do not go around being amused by excrement - I just forgot a couple of "a"s and a comma.

Apologies for anyone reduced to tears by my  sordid "confession" and apologies, also, to anyone who thought we could start a jobby fanzine together.

Monday, 25 March 2013

My Smirking Jacket

Formatting, formatting formatting - yep, I thought I'd done it - hadn't. That's because I thought computers were magic - turns out they aren't, well, not entirely.  So, I'm still fecking formatting Two All for kindle - taking out spaces, adding in spaces (in the correct manner) ie:while wearing a smoking jacket and uni-cycling.  I typed smiking jacket first - that's nearly a smirking jacket - OHHH!! Now I want a smirking jacket, you could rush off to the wardrobe and pull it on every time you felt a smirk coming on - my imaginary ones getting thread bare from over-use already.

This evening my twelve year old son stormed off (in a comedy way) to the shower telling me I was the most juvenile person he knew just because he'd had a problem with part of his school uniform today and when he was reading out the list of ingredients in his chocolate bar and got to the "may contain nuts" section - I died laughing and said that was more than could be said for his school trousers anymore. Aaa, crap that made me smirk and I didn't get a chance to pull my imaginary jacket on!

Saturday, 23 March 2013

My Chemical Romance

Am awfully sad to say one of my favourite bands are no more. Very glad I got to see them twice.  :(

Friday, 22 March 2013

"There can BE only one!" Okay, Mr Lambert, keep the heid on, you wee French dafty.

Ha! Got so excited that I had a new follower that I, briefly, followed myself. That was embarrassing!! There was me, grinning from my own followers list like a hat-wearing idiot, complete with the late Terri the Cockerel.

Hi Susie  - it is you isn't it! FB me if it is or comment if you are up to the strain of the carry on of interpreting odd letters and numbers xxx (we grew up together no.5 and no6. West Terrace, The Fabulous Western Highlands (there can be only two), Home of the Displaced Goddesses, IV26.

I MUST get a cool profile picture before the book hits the old cyber-press. My dear buddy Andrea of boxesbellow.blogspot.co.uk is up for it.  I want me in my best Steampunk gear with my new cockerel in chief - Prince Rupert on my knee. But Prince Rupert doesn't like to be carried around like a baby the way dear Terri (bravest of birds) did. Infact, he actively discourages it - it's because he has a load of younger lads around - he doesn't even bother to cock-a -doodle in order to prove he is entirely secure in his position as top of the heap. Ah, la - cockerel politics.

Only problem with Andrea doing the photo - to get back - is she's liable to do something clever with the picture involving shooting it through a tea bag while keeping a caterpillar behind her ear. Oh well!  Check out her blog if you are into photography that is above and beyond the "snap".

Tune! Has to be Queen (politics aside) from the film "Highlander" staring Christopher Lambert (and I have heard way worse Highland accents on the silver screen) "Who wants to live forever" (if you ever read my book -  to be published on kindle VERY soon (? eek)  - it'll tie in nicely to itand to this post.) xx
My lovely cat Sydney Biscuits esq - here seen in his San Francisco period - has a cold. My friend Fiona says it's Catmanflu!!! Lordy, wish I'd thought of that!!!!!!!

Thursday, 21 March 2013

Today writing turned me into an Unhygenic Biscuit Murderer.

FFS!! GRRRRRR!!  That's the second time today I have departed from the real world into my head to...nope, not going to say disastrous consequences, because even for me, that would be a gross exaggeration... have departed from the real world in a manner that has inconvenienced me and possibly others.

I had the hint of a good idea for a short story last night, that was okay, this morning -IN THE SHOWER OF COURSE - (as previously mentioned one of the awkward places these things decide to manifest), it decided to come back and put some meat on its bones. Great! Yep, flipping fantastic! A couple of hours later I'm skiving about at work writing said idea down and I noticed an unpleasant aroma - someone smelt very sweaty, someone had clearly forgotten to apply deodorant, someone's ablutions had most definitely gone awry. I glanced around hoping to find a customer lurking about whom I could blame - no such luck. BUGGER.
Apart from the niff, which I smothered in many scented products, I would normally have got away with this because I tend to wear black - not today, today I had on a dark purple top, now with even darker areas in the armpit region.  Luckily, I keep a black cloak at work (as you do) and having shed my outer layer of colour, swung it around to cover up what had moments ago been having a casual day as underwear.

Dear, polite, kind colleague Joan assures me I didn't hum too badly but was very quick to remind me I was on a half day - I was pretty pleased to go, for her sake.

So, once home and all hygiene issues dealt with, I decided to be a good mother, for once, and bake stuff. With a pavlova and ice cream both made (I have a lot of eggs just now - the hens are pooping them out like fiends) I did some biscuits.  Put in the oven for ten to twelve minutes it said - so I did, then started on my story again.....

I don't think they're too bad - the biscuits - most of them survived the extra ten minutes before I noticed the smell, this time of charring biscuit rather than marinading me. 

Hopefully, that is today's olfactory assault course over, because I don't think my nasal passages can take any more stimulation.

Note to self: do as many things at once as you like, as long as one of them isn't writing.

Today's tune is from Panic!At the Disco's CD "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out" (see what I did there!) and is called "I Write Sins Not Tragedies". 

Tuesday, 19 March 2013

This Date Stamp Deserves and OBE (but is too cool to accept it)

OUR POST STAMP - This box and stamp are still an integral part of our day, dates back to the 1920s -at least.

Steampunk Post Office

Have just spent the evening filling out an application form - (on line - I fricking hate that) - for a job I don't really want but need to apply for in order to make the world of the Buth (see previous post for explanation) easier - it's not a biggy - not a biggy at al,l but it's just all the bureaucratic bullshit I had to wade through to get there that was a pain. I HAD TO WRITE £0.00 A MILLION TIMES!!  Meanwhile, I have the lovely, brilliant writer Chris Ward standing in the wings to review my book blurb for me  - purely because he is a very nice person! AND I HAVE TO PUT HIM ON HOLD FOR THIS - *deep breath* - but it's not, as I said, a biggy and I am sure Mr Ward isn't waiting with baited breath (is that how you spell that "baited" - because that sounds like breath that would smell of fish to me - maybe that's because I'm from Ullapool) for my book blurb.

One of the questions on my application thingy piqued my interest, however: how much I'd be spending on uniforms. How much, indeed, would it cost to dec out me and my compadre, Joan, (unwillingly, in her dear case) in full Steampunk regalia and would it be more than the meagre wage they (the nameless big organisation, not the dear Buth) are willing to pay - HELL YES!  Bustles, top hats, goggles, fob watches, riding boots, granny boots, stylised weaponry, frock coats, waistcoats - none of these things are cheap - but, they'd be so much fun to sport on a daily basis behind the counter - even bloomers.  I do have some of the above already (not the bloomers I hasten to add) but how great would it be to have work issue ones and not that I'm naming the big organisation or anything, but actual vintage POST OFFICE garb!

We have a date stamp we use, there's old year stamps in the box - goes back to 1928 (at least).  Love that box so much - oh! I have a picture, I'll post it, it's from when I was temporary post mistress.  The date stamps from the seventies  are all done in...d'you call it bubble? It's the font they used for Top of the Pops.

Tonight's tune - since we are talking all things Steampunk - has to be Panic! At the Disco's "Ballad of Mona Lisa - watch the video - Love this song and GREAT outfits!!

Sunday, 17 March 2013

Detoxifying

Today, I am detoxifying with Green Tea, I've never tried it before, it's very nice. Not that I require detoxifying, although, now I think about it, I do believe I may have caught the end of a One Direction song on the radio the other day - so hopefully the old GT will cleanse me of any residual memory of  that which I may be suppressing.

Also working on the book blurb for my front page matter...think I'll do it in limerick form:

There once was a fantasy story ......... cheerio.xx

Saturday, 16 March 2013

And here's a nice picture of just down the road from my house - it's called the Traigh Mhor.

RUNNING UP THE ROAD NAKED

Normally, I would say avoid anything I write on a Friday and/or Saturday evenings but, as there is no booze left in the house - tonight is safe.  A friend actually thought all my post were done while under the influence - he just hadn't realised that he is used to me being fairly restrained -ish, booze fuelled I am either laconic or infuriated and VERY rude - so I have banned myself from blogging at such times.

So, that out the way, today started well - out for a wee 10k (not in the nude, by the way) - nice - frosty, still, perfect EXCEPT it was a slippery minefield and really very funny (unlike an actual minefield obviously, so not a minefield).

First couple of Ks - dead frogs, fricking dead frogs everywhere - a wee bit too plague-y for comfort but next was sheep poop, but as I couldn't recall reference to it in Exodus, I thought these were probably not apocalyptic signs - which would have been a major bummer on a Saturday. Yep, I was just running up the old road through the Glen (ocht, you know where I mean) and it was wall to wall (no walls) squished sheep keech - squished because a vehicle had beaten me up there - some early-bird out doing their peats (again - ocht- you know what I mean) - a slippery surface in anyone's books the old sheep excrement. Finally, out onto the main road to Gress, should be no problems there....... and then I saw it..................lying there.........near the edge of the road (this is true by the way)... surely the slipperiest thing known to man..........AN ICED OVER BANANA SKIN!!! No really, I'd done dead frogs without falling over, done moist sheep poop - my final obstacle an icy banana skin. 

Well, it will surprise anyone who knows me that I didn't stand on it and fall on my arse - despite the millions of ways to avoid it - given my track record. Nope, I sailed past, and although I was tempted to give it the Vs up, I didn't - I'm not stupid - I had to come back that way. I am THE person who really did  stand on the prongs of a garden hoe and get the handle in the face - last summer in fact - had there been multiple hoes around, I dare say I'd have done the whole Side-show Bob routine.

So, that was today - apart from that I started formatting my book for kindle .........and finished.......eeeeek.......thought it would take ages. Pants! This is all getting a bit real and scary - very soon I'm going to have to put up and shut up and honestly, the idea of running up the road in the nude - whether it be obstacle strewn or no -, isn't half as scary as the idea of putting my book out there for everyone to see.

Tonight's tune is from Canadian punks Billy Talent - CD - Billy Talent III - "Saint Veronica" - for no reason except my friend Trish is coming around this evening and we both love it  (and I can't think of a song that involves slipping on frog entrails.)

Thursday, 14 March 2013

Walking, Running and Talking Rubbish - Just Because.

Lordy - you wouldn't believe the mileage I put in today - not that I drive - I mean by way of shank's pony, perambulating, the old left, right,left,right or however you care to describe marching along the road like a mad bastard on a mission - my preferred mode.

D'you like how I say that, by the way , " I don't drive" - sounds like it's a conscious choice rather than that I couldn't figure it out - the whole driving thing, I mean. Well, I can/could - my problem was being easily distracted, oh, and an extreme aversion to going over about 30 miles an hour.  Add to that - I'm 4' 10" - to get even a half decent view over the steering wheel required 3 cushions under me and two behind, and if one of the buggers slipped it was blackout time.

So, "I don't drive". I say it in a way that nobody dares ask why in case they get a lecture on environmental issues - which they might!  But the above are the real reasons, with the other as an afterthought, I am ashamed to say. Plus, that Cal (husband) would probably die on the spot if he found out I was in charge of something with a combustion engine: he knows me too well. (Am also banned from power tools, non-powered tools, kitchen knives - oh, and well aimed angry cats).

My mileage - you know it wasn't that much really - probs only about seven and a half miles,including walking up and down to work at the dear Buth (that's Scottish Gaelic for shop - my place of work is called Buth Tholastaidh - I sort of run it/make up what I'm doing as I go along. But that's okay -ish. It's a community shop - it was me or nobody, so everyone knows I don't have a clue what I'm doing and shouldn't really be left in charge of a banana let alone an entire buth). Anyway, as I was saying, once - in the dim distant past - about 3 months ago - before I hurt my leg - I had got up to running  8 miles - EIGHT FRIGGING MILES ON THESE WEE PINS - come on - that's like double a normal person. Anyway, the point at the start of this narrative, before I got side-tracked is: I'm quite tired, in the lower limb department - upper limbs..... could wave the feckers around like it's 1999 for an hour - lower limbs - nup - be lucky if I can make it across the room in sub-5mins. Good night me hearties, Love Dxx

One tune and one tune only will do - and for no good reason other than that they are new and they are brilliant Static Cult - Birth of a Nation (going to hear them live in June!)

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Eating Fruit before you go to Bed

What can I say, I just fancied some fruit at about 10:30pm. I'm not going to say it was a bad move, more interesting really because what hadn't occured to me was that I was putting my stomach on nightshift and it wasn't happy. Infact, I strongly suspect it put a complaint in to management located in the top floor skull department, usually, because I had some seriously weird dreams.  But that was okay.

I woke up about 2am, wide awake - well - ish, and was lying there thinking about the wispy little bits of the above mentioned nocturnal brain meanderings I could remember, which wasn't much.  However, something stuck because next thing I know, I started telling myself a story (in my head, not out loud - I'm not completely bonkers), a really creepy story, a really really creepy story - needless to say I got the creeps but I liked it (the story not the creeps).  So, quiet as a whisper (or quiet as a baboon with a tambourine in everyone else's estimation probably) I got up, noted down the title - Living in his Shadow - in the hope it would jog my memory in the morning - then legged it, full speed, back to bed.

I started writing it this afternoon at work (I'm officially allowed to skive off and do this - world's best job!). When I get it finished, I'm post it - incase anyone wants to read it.

Tonight's tune - because it's an oddly creepy little ditty - is My Chemical Romance's "Blood" - hidden track on the Black Parade CD.

Sunday, 10 March 2013

What the Hell am I Doing!!!

EEK! This is scary stuff - the end game is in motion - I've just emailed some dudes for a quote for my book's ecover - oh man, oh man, oh man!!! I think this calls for a picture of one of my hens........ no....... I don't mean I want a picture of Dracula the Chicken on the front of my book....he just kind of looks how I feel right now - to be honest, he also looks kind of like how I look right now, too. Hmm - note to self - visit a hairdresser asap

Saturday, 9 March 2013

Les Miserable, The Walking Dead and why I am the least cool person in the world.

I got invited along to the cinema with some friends to see Les Miserable last night. So I went - cause that's the crazy kind of devil-may-care rogue I am.

I wasn't sure if I'd like it or not.  I'm not averse to a musical - my daughter, Ciorstaidh and youngest son, James went to see  American Idiot the Musical in Edinburgh last year and it was mind-blowingly brilliant, but I didn't really know much about Les Miserable. However, on entering the cinema and noting that everyone looked about my age and roughly my sex, my concerns regarding how this was going to pan out increased dramatically.
  
My fears were confirmed when it turned out to be pish - it rated about 45 on my bollocks-o-metre and that only goes up to 46 - AND WORSE - I was going to be missing  The Walking Dead because of it. So,because I can be fairly irrational sometimes (quite often really), I sort of got fixated by my annoyance at the woman in front of me who had draped her coat - that's coat not jacket - over the back of her chair (who the hell does that in a cinema!!), it was infringing on my limited personal space, which was more limited that usual because I was wearing a favourite pair of boots that seldom get an outing because they are particularly ludicrous - not my most ludicrous, that award goes to my gold and black knee length platforms - but bad enough. Normally, it seems, at 4'10" I am the only person cinemas, aeroplanes etc are designed for (as 6'2" husband tells me) but these boots I had on - leopard print fabric with gold stilettos which can only be worn with a keen sense of the absurd if not irony - have extremely long pointed toes, hence the spacial issues I referred to.

I'd like to say we left after an hour in protest but that wouldn't be true.  We did leave after an hour but it was because one of our party - and here, for once, I will be kind and not name any names - threw up spectacularly.  It was one of those fabulous moments when the brain can come up with nothing better than "! - ? - !" then maybe, "Whathefu!!". But we dealt with it swiftly, leaving our fellow cinema goers and poor staff with the gentle aroma of stomach juices and partly digested food to add some atmosphere to the film.  I'm not sure if the member of our party had a bug or is just an extremely harsh critic - either way - I am grateful to her - not only did I get home in time for the Walking Dead, not only did she miss my lovely boots but that poor woman won't be draping her coat over the back of any more cinema seats in a hurry!!

And why, you might ask, does this make me the least cool person in the world - am I confessing that twas I who up-chucked - no - I am the least cool person in the world because I had - not one - but two sick bags in my handbag, stored there for just such an emergency.  It almost brought a tear to my eye to see them finally fulfil their destiny in the taxi home.

In other news - the last pages of my book are being checked over this weekend and I am going to be spending this "Two All -less" time trying to work out how I go about getting a cover for it.

And there was no question what today's tune had to be - The Used "Pretty Handsome Awkward".

Thursday, 7 March 2013

Mr Sydney Biscuits or The Furry Interloper

So I'd decided to retire to the bedroom to write because everywhere else seemed to have people in it. I set my stuff up then dared to move my backside for thirty seconds and this is what happens!

Wednesday, 6 March 2013

Zombies, Stanley Knives and the Tabloid Press



As anyone who knows me will tell you, I'm a mild-mannered, easy going sort...no, okay, I'm lying - I'm a cantankerous bastard and it's just as well I have low blood pressure or I'd have keeled over long ago.

 So, that said - I COULDN'T GIVE A TOSS WHAT KATE WHATSHERNAME ROYAL PERSON IS GOING TO PRODUCE, BOY GIRL OR FLAMING BANJO - I couldn't care less if in, however many months, she should bend over and pull a bunch of flowers from under her tailored-to-look-homely-and-approachable skirt, going "TA DA SUCKERS" - well, actually, that might be mildly diverting. The point is, I don't want to know and this isn't because I am particularly anti-royalist - (I am but not particularly, their not that far up my Things-that-annoy-me list)  but I can certainly not generate a moments delight in the immanent sprog-dropping that is supposed to be warming our recession hit arses as we huddle around the single piece of coal we have to warm ourselves for the week, trying to make the rat stew last (okay, have lapsed into major exaggeration - it doesn't have to last, I've a fresh shrew the cats brought home boiling away as we "chat") - where was I - oh aye, the point - the point is the tabloid newspaper coverage and the TV news probably, too - if I watched it, which I don't is utterly utterly infuriating.  How can people bare this inane drivel?

   "So, oh mild mannered one," - you might say -" If it do makest thou so wild, why dost thou buy them?" Good question, thanks for asking - that's it though - I DON'T! I wouldn't buy one supposing there was a zombie plague and I got bitten and became a zombie and the Zombie Daily Express had a full size, full colour picture of Princess Di's brain on the front, but I run our local Community Shop and we sell tabloid newspapers! If it was my shop we wouldn't - so it would have closed a long time ago as people are fixated by this drool.
   Every morning I have to carry mountains of the things in and lay them out. I tried doing it with my eyes shut in order not to start the day by getting irate but they ended up in the vegetable rack (kind of appropriate really - shame it's not exactly true) and then there's the end of the day when I have to cut the tops off to send back to the newsagent so we get a refund for the ones not sold - again, tried doing it with my eyes shut, trouble there is I use a Stanley knife and it turns out I'm allergic to using Stanley knives with my eyes shut - I spontaneously loose blood and digits - the doctor said it's not that uncommon.  So - sort of like bar staff and passive smoking - my brain is infected (back to zombies) whether I like it or not with whatever fatuous trivia the newspaper boss has decided they should vomit on to their front page and Her Royal Simperingness seems to be, it a lot of the time, her and that annoying wee wank Justin Beiber.

OH, AND ANOTHER THING - our newspapers are flown over on a special plane (think I might be right in saying, two on a Saturday) - so not only do I hate them for the above stated reasons and others but people's need to buy and consume them is environmentally fucked up.

Just to link in to my book by the way - my unspeakable dislike of the TNs and everything they represent gets a verbal mugging in it as well because, although it is technically a fantasy, I think, going by all the fixed ideas of what book genres are, it's current-ish too because it's set in a parallel Scotland that could be now.  It's also romantic, supposed to be funny and hopefully quite exciting - my readers so far seem to concur and I didn't have to threaten them too much.  I'm just tidying up the end - then it's time to get it adjusted to publish on kindle - oh, and get a cover done - eek! And by the way, I have had it professionally proofread. I became aware I couldn't punctuate or spell when my dear friend Joan, without whom I'd have given up long ago, pointed it out, diplomatically, and I had to start learning how - believe me I'm a lot better at it than it was!

Today I am recommending 2 tunes as they both very much sum up the "little bit of politics" in my story : they are both by Rise Against - both on the CD End Game. The first is "Architects" ("..who the fuck's going to take their place,Will it be the cynic, the critics galour, Cliche apathetic crashed out on the floor, The trusting complicit who collectively ignore.") and "Disparity By Design." - ("If there's a God you better pray this sleeping giant never wakes!"). Night.

Sunday, 3 March 2013

I've Lost The Freaking Cheese!



So, I've learned one must have headings - see above - but the most important thing here is - I'VE LOST THE FREAKING CHEESE!!!  That's not a euphemism for anything, I have literally lost the cheese.  Here's what happened, what often happens in unguarded moments: there I was, wandering about making the Sunday dinner - lasgane and homemade chips (my culinary abilities are about as limited as my attempts to be lady-like - ie I fuck up badly).  Any hoo - there I was doing my thing and suddenly I had an idea. Two All is finished, barr a little ironing out - no - this if for the follow up.


Ideas for me are like sneaky bubbles that float around me all the time. I try to grab them and they skitter off, ignore them and they hover like an impending headache. So I try to set time aside for them - all the jobs done - the entire family banned from the room I'm in and I go: "Come to me my children." and they bugger off faster than my actual children would were I do something so unutterably creepy.

  What the sneaky little fecks like to do is pounce just when it's least convenient.  The shower is very popular, also out running (again grabbing a notebook isn't an option), so I have to try and remember - and that's a non-starter - they do it deliberately.  So anyway, back to Sunday dinner and me minding my own business, creating a feast for kings (huh) - IDEA!IDEA! IDEA!!! Great - notebook? CHECK, working pen/pencil/eye pencil? CHECK - idea - you are mine bee-ach. Yep, it's there in scribble form on a random piece of paper and it's okay, quite pleased with it actually; however, now the cheese is missing.  Last time I saw it I was grating it and sprinkling it on the lasagne and then I put it in a glass dish with a picture of a cow on it (probs designed for butter but - hey - we have NO rules in this house) after that........it's a mystery. I've checked the mantle piece, the tumble dryer, my underwear drawer - all the usual places, no joy.  So if you find my cheese - mature, colourless in a butter dish - please forward.

 I don't know how to end these things - so, as music is very important to me, I thought I'd always end with a tune I like.  My tastes won't be your tastes, and my taste are not eclectic, Calum's are (my husband) he's good at listening to everything - I don't, so I dare say I'll repeat myself, I don't really care.  The tune I go back to, to get me in the right place for writing Two All is S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W - My Chemical Romance from "The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys".

Saturday, 2 March 2013

Okay, here goes - this blog is supposed to be about my book "Two All - All for One" which I have just about finished (I said that this time last year too - no, but it really is now) and intend to publish on kindle because I got UTTERLY sick of reading the Writers and Artists agent lists and seeing "no fantasy, no science fiction" so rude and I thought stuff the lot of you - I'll just do it myself and then we'll see who's crying.  Well, me probably by the time I've gone over the whole bloody thing rejigging it so it'll be laid out correctly on kindle and by the time I figure out how to do the publishing thing - hell, you should have seen the song and dance I've made about "creating" this blog- "Calum!!! the screen's gone funny!" - "Calum!!! which was the button I do that thing with?" - "What thing?" - "Ocht! stop being obtuse! The thing, you know fine what I mean!" etc etc. He's got his headphones on now, probably listening to some band called something like "The Lords of Doom" who'll mostly be bellowing incoherently - at least I wasn't incoherent, mostly.

We tend to live in headphones in this place, me my sons and him, a burglar could come in in broad daylight and clear the place and none of us would have a clue.  A friend and builder from along the road - name of Roddy Campbell (known as Beauty) did, in fact, come in one day - I was at work and had asked him to pop in - something was falling off something else probably, he went in, did whatever was required and left and none of the blokes in the house even knew he'd been in. Note to any burglars who happen to read this - this is an island and the ferry only goes twice a day - so don't even think about it.

Look - see - I knew that would happen - I've gone off on a tangent about stuff. FFS!  Okay, well I've made a start but I have to go and lock the shop now (I'll explain another time).

Next time I might even mention my book a bit. Cheerio o :)