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I’m supposing that people blogging about not posting in their blogs is about as tiresome as writers writing about writing.
So, here’s a bunch of things I should have written about, crammed into one post:
I have a new car. Her name is Ann, and she’s a silver 1.4 Renault Clio. I had to drive two hours to Manchester to view her, because there are no used car dealers in North Wales which deal in my price range. I picked up her for £1,100 from a father and son team who prove that stereotypes do, actually, exist in the real world. Picture father and son used car dealers in Greater Manchester, and you’re there. She needs a few things fixing, but nothing major. She also has remote central locking, which is a great pleasure for me. I still grin like a schoolboy every time I press the switch. I grew up in the eighties, and, well, remote central locking ranks up there with the Porch 911s with the whale-tail spoilers on the back. Soon as I’m famous, I’m going to get me one of those, too.
Because I brought a new car, it transpired that Allegra and I were locked out after a night out with friends from work. The house keys got left in Stevie (our old car) when we left him in Manchester for the tender touch of the scrapper, so we’d been using the spare keys for the last week or so. I didn’t pick up the spare key before leaving the house. Normally, we leave the back door open. However, we’d just come back from Lincoln, and not unlocked the door yet. We normally have a Velux window open, but having just come back from Lincoln we’d shut them all tight. Did you know there’s only one locksmith in our area? We do, now. After a half-hour trying to find some to let us in at midnight, we crashed on ngaio’s floor--which was especially kind of her, considering she had her in-laws staying at the time. The morning was spent ringing around until £65 later we went to bed at half mid-day. We now have several spare keys, ngaio looking after one of them for us.
Allegra has arranged an amazing gig in Oxford on the 14th December, with Sunday Driver, Ghostfire and The Men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing all on the same bill. Lady Spagthorpe will be giving dancing classed during the day. As we will be too busy organising during the day to attend, we will be traveling to Lady Spagthorpe’s place in York for some private tuition.
I have two Feathers stories in my head which need writing, Stormy Weather is where I left it last time we talked, and I still have a story in my notebook from Scotland which needs attention. And that’s before we mention Bambi. I’m becoming a very bad writer, and I’m feeling the shame.
I can’t tell you the reason why I’m neglecting my duties, in true Wil Wheaton style. It’s a super-special project I’ve been working on and feeding all my time to. I should be able to show you next week, if all goes well.
So, here’s a bunch of things I should have written about, crammed into one post:
I have a new car. Her name is Ann, and she’s a silver 1.4 Renault Clio. I had to drive two hours to Manchester to view her, because there are no used car dealers in North Wales which deal in my price range. I picked up her for £1,100 from a father and son team who prove that stereotypes do, actually, exist in the real world. Picture father and son used car dealers in Greater Manchester, and you’re there. She needs a few things fixing, but nothing major. She also has remote central locking, which is a great pleasure for me. I still grin like a schoolboy every time I press the switch. I grew up in the eighties, and, well, remote central locking ranks up there with the Porch 911s with the whale-tail spoilers on the back. Soon as I’m famous, I’m going to get me one of those, too.
Because I brought a new car, it transpired that Allegra and I were locked out after a night out with friends from work. The house keys got left in Stevie (our old car) when we left him in Manchester for the tender touch of the scrapper, so we’d been using the spare keys for the last week or so. I didn’t pick up the spare key before leaving the house. Normally, we leave the back door open. However, we’d just come back from Lincoln, and not unlocked the door yet. We normally have a Velux window open, but having just come back from Lincoln we’d shut them all tight. Did you know there’s only one locksmith in our area? We do, now. After a half-hour trying to find some to let us in at midnight, we crashed on ngaio’s floor--which was especially kind of her, considering she had her in-laws staying at the time. The morning was spent ringing around until £65 later we went to bed at half mid-day. We now have several spare keys, ngaio looking after one of them for us.
Allegra has arranged an amazing gig in Oxford on the 14th December, with Sunday Driver, Ghostfire and The Men Who Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing all on the same bill. Lady Spagthorpe will be giving dancing classed during the day. As we will be too busy organising during the day to attend, we will be traveling to Lady Spagthorpe’s place in York for some private tuition.
I have two Feathers stories in my head which need writing, Stormy Weather is where I left it last time we talked, and I still have a story in my notebook from Scotland which needs attention. And that’s before we mention Bambi. I’m becoming a very bad writer, and I’m feeling the shame.
I can’t tell you the reason why I’m neglecting my duties, in true Wil Wheaton style. It’s a super-special project I’ve been working on and feeding all my time to. I should be able to show you next week, if all goes well.
1 comment:
Grats on the car. COmmiserations on the lock-out (Did I ever mention I did similar only to find the keys I needed? bah!) And yay on the party. I shall try to be there.
And don't worry too much about the writing. It's hard enough earning a living and writing. As soon as you throw other hobbies in there it gets... difficult.
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