(no subject)
Dec. 9th, 2008 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnny9fingersMay have an idea for a novel.
This probably means I shall be quiet for a bit.
Did the last gig of the year at Dulwich College on Saturday. Had 'man-flu': but 'Doctor Gig' as the great philosopher Humphrey_Lyttelton once put it, 'cures all ills'. Only temporarily, alas.
Went to the hotel in Cambridge on Sunday. Cripes. SWMBO thinking about flowers for the occasion and such-like. Asks opinion....I blather (in the way you do) and she thinks I've suddenly become retarded. Instead, I think of the new novel's main character, with a no doubt glassy expression upon my old fizzgog as if my last sneeze removed more than just flu-ridden snot: and that stroodled brains resemble the excoriating choriza issuing from my nose and destroying the skin thereabouts even on to my upper lip.
The drive back to London was horrendous. Though we went via the Wine Society where I picked up a half of Sauternes for the Christmas Pate (about which I feel some guilt, poor goose, poor goose) and a half of Muscat alongside some fun looking bin-ends: big reds, some fizz, some dry(ish) whites and a brace of roses. Also have bought the Society's own 21 year old Islay Malt. Well, you have to try it just to see, don't you?
I need to earn some money this year. Will put what is left of the mind to't.
This probably means I shall be quiet for a bit.
Did the last gig of the year at Dulwich College on Saturday. Had 'man-flu': but 'Doctor Gig' as the great philosopher Humphrey_Lyttelton once put it, 'cures all ills'. Only temporarily, alas.
Went to the hotel in Cambridge on Sunday. Cripes. SWMBO thinking about flowers for the occasion and such-like. Asks opinion....I blather (in the way you do) and she thinks I've suddenly become retarded. Instead, I think of the new novel's main character, with a no doubt glassy expression upon my old fizzgog as if my last sneeze removed more than just flu-ridden snot: and that stroodled brains resemble the excoriating choriza issuing from my nose and destroying the skin thereabouts even on to my upper lip.
The drive back to London was horrendous. Though we went via the Wine Society where I picked up a half of Sauternes for the Christmas Pate (about which I feel some guilt, poor goose, poor goose) and a half of Muscat alongside some fun looking bin-ends: big reds, some fizz, some dry(ish) whites and a brace of roses. Also have bought the Society's own 21 year old Islay Malt. Well, you have to try it just to see, don't you?
I need to earn some money this year. Will put what is left of the mind to't.
