Busy week in work this week. The week of back to back handovers. Typically my throat feels like it’s about to close up and my eyes are itchy as hell. Fingers crossed it’s just a bit of a reaction to something and it’ll be gone when I wake up.

I found out today that the 16th of this month is an important day for me, I couldn’t be bothered putting a password on this tonight, so I’m sure you can guess what I’m talking about without referencing it in the comments

The weather is crap, we have the fire lit again this evening.

Nope, that’s it, brain no work, bed sound good….thud…

…very tired Lou. Fit only for bed at this point in the night, we’re both just sitting here waiting to go to bed late enough that we don’t both wake up at six or something daft. I’ll be back tomorrow.

Oh, a quick question, and I know the answers will reflect different cultures/ages etc. but someone told me at the weekend that you have to wear a dress/palazzo pants to a wedding? Countless thousands wouldn’t persuade me to wear a dress, it would be akin to asking Benny to wear a dress – it’s so not me, I’m too tired to even begin to explain. Any thoughts? I was thinking tailored linen trouser suit with nice top and heels and the make up played up etc?

Takin’ a wee breakie today. I finally said hang it all, I’m takin a Saturday. Will fill you in on all the details tomorrow, a pleasant drive and some pints are obviously on the cards. Absence yesterday was due to extreme laziness brought on by running into the neighbours in the pub – you know one of them quite ‘one or two’ nights that turns into, well, you know. Mmm, mayo and sausage roll. Oh crap, now I’m made myself want another.

Anyway, pleasant weekend friends! x

I got irritated by something that happened in work last night before I went to bed and ran over my blog time ranting about it. I don’t do it often, so Benny doesn’t mind, but I really had to get it off my chest. No point rehashing it here, all the usual shite from the usual suspect.

I will find out about my final, eh, book thing some time during next week. I made a phone call about it, worried that it might have gotten lost in the post etc. Needless to say I’d been worrying about it all week, so that phone call brought some welcome relief.

Benny bought me Nature Valley Crunchy Granola bars when he was doing the shopping yesterday. I haven’t had them since I was working in Dublin really, the taste has brought back a strong memory of the place I last ate them in, of my work there, even the feel of the seat. That was a comfy seat.

That’s the interesting thing about keeping a daily blog – the timing of your sit down to write it can seriously alter the contents. Like, if I sit down at ten at night, a good hour and a bit before bed time, my mind is reflective, relaxed, I can have a poke about in it for something interesting to examine, some highlight of the day that I want to write about. If I sit down last thing at night, which I’ve been doing for a while now, my thoughts will usually fasten on my bed, I’m done with the day, I don’t want to go back on it (especially not in my current situation). This means that the blog sounds a bit blow by blow, a quick thought for the day kind of thing. The other time that I tend to write is first thing in the morning in work – and this is the most irritating one for me. ALL I can think about right now is how unfair and unpleasant I find this place. And I have to be cryptic about it, my real name is on this after all.

Fuckit. It wont last forever. It’s all fuel for the fire. As I said to Benny last night, at least I’ve got the outlines for two really good villains for my books.

Always good to get Monday out of the way. Can think of little else other than when I’m going to get the letter that tells me the date of my final, em, well, you know. Think books.

Me and Benny were discussing possible ideas for the story I started the other night, I have some interesting leads, which I’ll stew a bit. I’m too knackered tonight to write, no big surprise there.

We had to have the fire on again tonight, the cats are in heaven. It’s a nice treat to be able to sit and roast in front of it again, I’d kind of given up on the idea until Autumn, but the damp here is a killer. I had a thermal vest under my shirt and woolly tank top today. A thermal in June! Ridiculatum.

One last thing, I have to get this off my chest, John Barrowman has to be one of the best looking men in the universe, n’est pas? What an incredibly beautiful face, and what a great personality. Anyone that quick to smile and laugh and joke is my kind of person.

Right, beddy byes, up early for the stupid weekly meeting tomorrow morning. Sigh.

Many thanks for the feedback on my experiment – I will answer your comments tomorrow. Right now the bed is calling and there’s no silencing it.

I had a completely do-nothing-day, Benny came back from a really crap night in Galway, soaked, without a wink of sleep and in need of some very serious tlc. Baths were drawn, fires were lit (yes, it’s that cold here at the moment), fry ups were purchased, cooked and served, and I even expended my last ounce of energy ordering a Domino’s online. We watched lot’s of TV, I read my book (I’m getting loads of free ones that I can read online at Tor.com – it’s free to join), and we nattered. The televisual highlights of the day were yesterday’s recording of Andrew Marr’s history of modern Britain, which is really excellently done, and the return of Top Gear – YAY! We pretty much laughed the whole way through, as well as obviously finding it all very interesting. Was quite chuffed to see the M3 whipping the stupid Prius for fuel efficiency too (the two main brands I sell are beemers and … well, you know).

Thud, zzzzzzzzzzz…..

About two hours ago I stuck on Ian Brown and decided to see what might come out. Here it is, unedited, literally, the first draft – I never pretended I knew how to write conversations properly, and I never seem to remember how they do it in books, so I hope that isn’t off-putting…

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Shell stood erect, ears tuned to everything around her, eyes flashing daggers as she scanned the room. In the haze of smoke in the room, she caught his golden gaze. Something twinged in the back of her mind and the arched back, legs-steel-straight pose faltered. Her hands, palms flattened on her thighs ready to pull the guns that weren’t at her side, relaxed.

She shook the moment off, uneasy and not sure where this comic book film mindset had erupted from and pushed herself to walk in a slinky, hopefully sexy manner back towards the beer sticky table. As she sat the eyes she had just locked with, but which she’d only half seen, wondered if she’d imagined, began burning holes in her shoulders.

She smiled at Chris, who just about registered her return from the bathroom in the midst of his drunken gesticulation-ridden conversation with their friends at the table. It was something to do with college, and their favourite lecturer to give out about. Shell had hoped they’d be done before she returned, she’d made her point on the unfortunate woman’s motivations for being such an arsehole and really didn’t feel there was anything more to add. They wanted to bitch, fair enough, she was tuning out. Her fingers traced circles in the condensation on her pint glass, but the flipping in her stomach made her think twice about taking another sip.

She began shifting in her chair, partly from boredom but increasingly she began to realise it was more to do with the bizarre twinges that had started up in her stomach as she’d stood outside the bathroom door, surveying the bar like a heroine from a sci-fi novel. She rolled her shoulders and twisted her neck from side to side, ‘was I not sitting right at the computer today?’ she wondered. It was the heat at the base of her neck, and the feeling of her muscles trying to knot themselves, which finally made her twist enough to want to stand up to cover up her odd behaviour. She began to make an excuse to the gang, but they didn’t look up. Arching her eyebrows unconsciously in irritation she pivoted around from the chair in an easy move and gasped as she looked down – almost directly behind her, and barring her way, a pair of converse sneakers, black boot cut jeans, a lurid acid green patterned shirt, a face she would never forget. The burning in her shoulders fell away like water as she locked eyes with the golden gaze, the man now standing almost toe to toe with her.

Shell blinked, furrowed her brows and gulped. Finally, she just cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive kitten – ‘I, I, know…, do I know you?’ she half whispered, feeling the blood drain from her head, pooling in her butterfly riddled stomach. As she began to go black the tall dark stranger reached out lightening fast, gripping her waist before she could crumple.

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Outside it was minus 10, respectable, easily kept out with a decent jacket, but Shell didn’t have a jacket, she had a hot body wrapped around her, hurtling her through the night sky. She felt drugged, her head spilled back, eyes blurring, stars, getting whiter. Black, navy blue sky, twinkling. She leaned her head to the green satined shoulder and looked down at the Google map St Petersburg was quickly becoming below her. The speed of their ascent was so extreme her nausea and whatever spell she felt under kept her from feeling the fear she barely registered she should be feeling. The heat of his chest under the silken material seemed to fill the inside of her skull, saturate her like red wine on an empty stomach. He moved his hand to the base of her skull to cradle her against his chest as they passed the clouds. The heat in her skull travelled through her and what little vision she had left tunnelled again into darkness.

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Shell awoke in a wooden cabin, a thick woven blanket tucked all around her and up to her chin, on an old armchair in the corner of the living room. Her eyes travelled around the sparsely furnished room and rested on the ice rimmed window on the wall opposite her. The panes showed nothing of what was outside, they were just white, like mirrors to a white wall. She got up slowly, unthinkingly and looked out on a shining white snowy landscape. A menthol cool draft brushed her cheek as she leaned closer to the window, and the feeling of silence and space filtered through her still-hazy thoughts. Shaking her head to try to relieve the fog which was still in her brain from the sleep she had just come out of she made her way to the door. The old fashioned metal door knob sent a jolt of ice up her arm on contact, the fog cleared a little more. She pulled back the door to reveal a wide white world, with giant dark green pines dotted about and the sort of ethereal calm that can only be found where there are no humans for hundred of miles.

The crack of an axe hitting wood turned her head to the sight of a tall man with his back to her further along the building’s façade. She stepped out onto the veranda pulling the blanket tighter to her. Her voice croaked ‘hello?’ at the strangers back, she cleared her throat to say it again, the axe had come down at the exact moment her feeble utterance fell from her chapped lips, but the man turned anyway. His eyes, deep brown with amber flecks, met with hers across the white yard and registered as if he was standing directly in front of her.

A flood of half images swam in her brain, the feel of his hair, his stubble, a soft mattress on a hard wood bed frame, a duvet falling to the floor, a terrible sadness and those eyes, pleading, now hard, now distant. Her legs wobbled again but she steadied herself on the banister running the length of the veranda. He put down the axe and walked towards her slowly, as if aware that too much movement would overwhelm her. ‘it’s too cold out here for what you’re wearing baby’. Baby? Who in the name of God would call her baby? A question began to form on her lips but in her almost drunken state he was with her and guiding her into the house before she could say anything.

She landed with a thud on the hard stool in the kitchen and instantly became aware of the heat being generated by the aga in the centre of the room to her left. The warmth on her face and hair made her want to stand and face it, but no energy came. She looked down at the floor, head reeling as if she’d drank all the vodka in St Petersburg. ‘St Petersburg’? she managed to slur at him. ‘shush pet’ her coaxed placing a dark pottery bowl full to the brim with porridge in front of her. She felt hungry but barely able to eat, he sat next to here at the corner of the table and spoon fed her. She slumped across the table when he had finished helping her and felt the food building the charge back up in her mind – ‘Ka, where are we?’ The name surprised her, she didn’t know she knew his name…’where the fuck am I? and how the fuck do I know your name, if that even is your name?’ It is my name pet, and you’re in the Dolgans, Siberia. It’s going to take you a while to remember everything, they did a very thorough job of making you forget’. Shell began to try to interrupt but he cut her off with a hand placed over hers ‘You need more sleep first’.

Very tired this evening, gonna take a raincheck on the blog. Be back tomorrow,

Take care all, x