It's like Holiday, but with indecision

I'm torn. I have been unable to decide whether or not to go west this weekend. The argument for is strong: if I don't I will have to spend a 3-day weekend in the Concrete Kingdom of Swindon with nothing to do. Of course, I'll have nothing to do if I go back home, but at least I'll be somewhere nice, and at least I'll have company[9].

The drive back isn't particularly appealing, either; only madmen willingly drive to the westcountry for BH weekend.

I probably will go back. My natural state is just indecisiveness.

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[9] This is where I draw a sympathetic 'aw' from the audience. It basically boils down to there not being anyone to keep me in Swin.

Home

Words Sunday: 743
Words Monday: 74
Words yesterday: 649
Words total: 61620

Yeah, the 74 on Monday was a bit rubbish, but I opened it up to get a few quick words down before tae kwon do, and then never got back to it. At least I got something down.

Home

Words yesterday: 730
Words total: 60154

Hmmm. Time to write first fifty-thousand words = 1 month. Time to write next ten-thousand = 18 months. What the hell happened?

Home

Words yesterday: 873
Words total: 59424

Yes, finally did some more work on my Work in Progress, and it has only been seven months since I last took a look at it.

It's like The Bill, but without reliable witnesses

More hilarity this weekend, as the police returned to take a statement from Andy about his mugging incident in March:

-- So, can you remember where it happened?
-- No.
-- Or what time it happened?
-- I think it was about twelve-thirty.
-- And what did they look like?
-- I can't remember.

I had to sit in my room when he was being interviewed, because last time I couldn't stop laughing, and it wouldn't have done for Andy to have started cracking up. Funniest thing was when, after he had told her that he'd been out drinking since four, she asked was he drunk and he had the cheek to say 'Not really'.

A couple of seconds later, the cop was heard to say, 'I can hear someone laughing in the other room.'

It's like End of Story, without the end, part 2

And, just in case anyone thinks that I don't do any writing any more, I finished work on Harbourmancer this afternoon. First completed story of 2005 (we'll just ignore the fact that I started writing it in July last year).

Going to sit on it for a week before I edit. In the meantime, I'm hoping that I can get some work done on Home. I haven't looked at that particular project since November last year.

I really can be shameful sometimes.

It's like the news, but without anything relevant

Stolen from another's blog:

My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Shotgun of Mild Reason.

Get yours.

It's like Pop Idol, but without Gareth Gates

Okay, I'm annoyed enough that I'm in the office on a Saturday afternoon, but I've just found out that my horse didn't win the national. Sooner I can get out of here and have a beer the better.

Went out last night for Kim's birthday celebrations. An evening notable because:

1. Someone told me I look like Will Young, prompting me to spend much of the later part of the evening in front of a mirror trying to see it. I can't, so I can only conclude that the person was very drunk.
2. Jen and Andy stayed out later than midnight. In doing so they have narrowly avoided forevermore being referred to as Cinderella and her boyfriend in this blog.
3. I stayed to the end of the night in a club and actually enjoyed myself until the end. And still had friends with me at 2am.

Shocking, really.

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And, for anyone who's interested, and thinks they can see it: [will young][Not will young]

Couldn't escape if I wanted to, part 2

More insanity:

Unfortunately a number of users have found the white background too harsh, which has resulted in them complaining of headaches. We take Health and Safety issues extremely seriously.
As a result of these comments, a light blue wash has been applied to the background of the application web pages.

It's been a while since I posted one of these, but then it's been a while since I've seen anything quite this bad.

It's like End of Story, without the end

One of the good things about being back in the main office is that my shorter working days means that I've claimed my evenings back. Last night I got home early enough that I was able to cook, go to tae kwon do, and get some writing done. It's been a while since that's been possible.

Worked on Harbourmancer [entry] for the first time in a month and a half last night. Got about a thousand words down (I'll update the count next time I log on at home), and I have to say that I'm pretty happy with them. At 10000 words the story seems to (finally) be nearing the end. In fact our protagonist has done all he needed to do (albeit not what he wanted to do), so all that remains is to wrap it up. Probably only needs another 100 or so words.

It's like The Office, but with April showers

It's wet and miserable, but it's still really cool to have a window seat. When that window overlooks a nice little pond (with ducks!), it's even cooler.

It's like Baywatch, but set in the woods

Things look good: summer's coming and broke my sunnies out of hibernation today for the first time this year; returning to BP (which as Jen pointed out is outside the limits of the Concrete Kingdom of Swindon, therefore good); really getting into my tae kwon do (a lot more than I imagined I would); running again; writing again.

There's a couple of things missing, of course, but I'm not too desperate on that front.

It's like Wizbit, but set in 19th century England

Jonathon Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke

There's no denying that this is a beautifully written book, and that Clarke's command of the language is really good, but there are flaws with the story-telling that stop this from being a great book. If you can get past these -- if you're not perturbed by picking up an 800-page novel -- then it will be a thoroughly enjoyable read. The characters, settings and situations are cleverly used and well written, it's just in areas such as pacing and certain plot-choices that disappoint. Pacing because in some areas it does drag a little -- usually when discussing one of the numerous sub-plots. Plot-choices because a lot of the sub-plots, whilst demonstrating the length at which Clarke has taken her world-building, take you out of the main plot a little too much. The footnotes start off interesting and entertaining, but soon get annoying (some of them run to two or three pages), and it begins to feel like you're reading a text book[3].

The plot revolves around the title characters: Mr Norrell, who being the only magician in England, is determined to bring about the return of English magic; and Jonathon Strange, the young student of magic who joins him. It sounds fairly simple, but there's a lot more to it than that, and to go into any more detail would both take far too much room in this blog, and ruin the story for you.

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[3] Especially the ones that just refer you to other books about magic (books which, AFAIK, don't exist).

It's like the extreme sports channel, without balance

Jumped on a skateboard for the first time in about 15 years last night. I was a legend on the board, and got a lot of respect for using the little known braking-with-your-chin method.

But okay, I've done it, stepped up and humiliated myself for the public good, and now I need not get on the skateboard again.

Unless of course, I get that drunk again in the presence of the skateboard.

What I'm grateful for, I guess, is that although I was filming Andy and Jen every time they fell off, no one had to foresight to pick up my camera and film me in my adventure. There will be no permanent record of my failure, once my chin has healed.

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The party that led to this shameless display of balance-avoidance, went well. Andy had decided to invite everyone he knew to a dinner party, and for a surprise people actually turned up[1]. Good food, lots of wine, and a game of twister in which I was undefeated champion[2].

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[1] Sorry, dude, couldn't resist.

[2] Yeah, it's funny how I can win a game of Twister, then go outside and skateboard like Abe Simpson.

Only one minute to go

Emailed from 'arwell on last day of sentence:

I'm freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
So long, suckers.