Going...going...

Since I haven't posted here since 2006, and I stopped being an actual postman last April, I am discontinuing this blog. It will be reborn as Interrupting Penguin just as soon as I get one of those things. You know. A round tuit. That is all.

Except for this link to my new blog.

Green and getting better

No balloons yesterday, but we went to Clifton for Sunday lunch, and then spent an enjoyable evening with Paul and two of his friends. They were on their way back from the Big Green Gathering in Somerset, and were full of it (in the best possible way!) . They're out to change the world, just as we were, but in a green way rather than a red one. Good.
Paul's grandma Dorothy is in hospital but recovering. So I'll send her a card.
Getting the hang of the new mouse.

Those old mice with their big hairy balls

David's hospital appointment is on September 5th, so I have to take the day off.
I bought a new mouse, rechargeable and optical, so no more clogged-up hairy balls. It doesn't always connect when I switch on. Don't know why, manual not much help.
I've just finished Chapter 2 (of the novel, remember?), having managed to get those two characters into bed. Chapter 3 is where we learn their true identities. And now I think I'll go back and revise Chapter 1.
Then we'll make one last attempt to see some balloons at the Balloon Fiesta.

Morris trolley 1

X-ray results through: not good. David will have to go into hospital for investigation, which will involve removing the pins in his hip-joint because he has necrosis. What he's most dreading is the food in the BRI!
No writing done this week because of family/friends' health problems -- putting it down to research. The picture is supposed to go in the my profile section, but I can't get it to post there. I'll keep trying.

Shakespeare and his cheese sandwich

Back from Buxton (5 days ago, actually) with severely depleted finances and worrying family news.

Our friend Chris came over from London returning the pictures he took to try to find a buyer; no interest there apparently. David's idea is to take them to the museum here, as they are both local scenes of a sort. But the museum doesn't buy pictures, or anything at all, it seems.

Photographed David's 2 Staffordshire pot dogs, flower-sellers spill-holder and W Shakespeare with his cheese sandwich (actually a book he's leaning on). Dogs are badly cracked and WS is crazed, so we won't make our fortunes that way! But we now have something to show the auctioneers.

David rang his doctor to see if his x-rays had come. The doctor rang back to say there was no record of his having had an x-ray, despite the fact that we'd gone to the Bristol General with a pink form, and the deed had been done. Dr Burlington will now administer a bollocking to the BGH. We will wait patiently. No pun intended.

I rang the bank and saved the bacon, for a while.

While we were out shopping in the cool of the evening, Dr Burlington rang to ask David to make an appointment to discuss his x-rays. So the bollocking worked.

"What of the writing?" I hear you cry. Mmm.

We're all going on a Summer holiday...

...no more blogging for, well, the rest of this week, anyway.

And the lovely Lesley-Jayne didn't come. So we drank the wine we had and went shopping for the journey. And packed. And went.

No lemmings, Lesley's coming, take to the hills!

I got right through level 1 of Lemmings, and now I get the message

FORBIDDEN
You don't have permission to access /scripts/lemmings/html/preload.html on this server.

So no excuse for not writing.

I read somewhere that you should have more than one short story ready before you start submitting anything for publication, in case the publisher says "Your story is not for us, but do you have anything else?"

I've submitted one short story ("Silly Boys") to a magazine; started another one, which turned into a novel; and another, which turned into a TV drama script. Oh, and I started the sequel to "Silly Boys", which will only be useful if "Silly Boys" is accepted for publication! So I'm still in need of a short story.

One plan is to write the TV script, "A Fighting Chance", simutaneously as a short story. This means going back over the script and converting it to prose. Should be an interesting exercise, and should keep me busy during our holiday in the hill country. (We're going to see our parents in Sheffield and Buxton.) We leave on Tuesday, after a visit to our financial adviser, hem hem.

Lesley-Jayne has promised us a visit on Monday morning, but must not be allowed to get us all pissed like she normally does. (Sometimes she even provides the booze!)

On the way home from the pub, we watch bats over the railway-line.