The lamb curry is in the slow cooker, the In Our Time Darwin special is paused on the mp3 player in the kitchen, half the massive pile of washing-up is done, I’ve cracked open a Tangle Foot, and the sun streams through the window as I type. This is the life that days-off are made for.
Now all I have to do today is finish the dishes, complete my application for the BBC Trainee Journalist Scheme, and bring my short story for next month’s Blank Pages up to scratch. So that is the rest of the day set aside, when all I want to do is watch episodes of House and Monk, trawl Wikipedia and play Civilization IV, preferably all at once. And not forgetting listening to music, an act which renders writing almost physically impossible.
I've so far only discovered one album I can listen to and write unencumbered. This magical music is Autechre’s album Draft 7.30. If played quietly on the other side of the room it provides a warm gently beeping and clicking aura that cuts through the painful silence that accompanies writing. There are no distracting words, or sudden unexpected excitement to divert attention from one’s train of thought. Just the feeling of a low electronic buzz generating calming klings and klangs somewhere inside the walls.
Earlier in this post my finger slipped whilst aiming for the o key somehow creating the word ‘poo’ leading to the sentence ‘I’ve so far only discovered poo’. Oh, how I laughed. And no, you didn’t have to be there; I will be regaling my grandchildren with that hilarious yarn in years to come. ‘Oh granddad, granddad, tell us the story about the time your finger slipped and poo came out,’ they will say every year at Christmas dinner.
I now return to writing this post which I started in the morning. It’s now half past nine, and I’ve got almost none of my planned writing tasks completed so far. The odd word here and there in between delving elbow deep into a week’s worth of dirty dishes, preparing slow cooked lamb curry, moping around, having an afternoon nap, eating slow cooked lamb curry, watching Curb Your Enthusiasm. But the odd word here and there really isn’t enough. I have a short story to complete which should have already been finished, I have the application for the BBC thing the deadline of which is midnight tomorrow. I sat on that way too long and am now not sure if I can even finish it. I have a bunch of different statements to write and ideas to generate, plus I have to watch an old episode of News at Ten and write a critical review of it. This will have to be done bit by bit tonight, tomorrow before work, in my half hour dinner break, and after work tomorrow. Why have I left it to this stupidly late point? Anyway, I’d better get cracking. I apologise for today’s mundane blog post. But they can’t all be gold, and I’m happy to admit that the last few days have been pretty damn good. Wish me luck.