After yesterday’s beautifully touching true life story I may have set the bar too high. Every day of the blog can’t be gold; there must be occasional tedium, otherwise how would we recognise the good stuff? Today dear reader, it’s time for your dose of perfunctory word-count filling. NO, No, no, scratch that, reverse it. I can’t get away with that old cop-out again. I must do us all a favour and actually think about what I am writing about. That way I may create intricate narrative, sparkling prose, or articulate wit. Three things I know little about, but which sound not half bad.
Nope, no luck. It’s not happening. The moment I stopped writing, to think about something interesting exciting or funny to write about, I instantly started skiving. Instead of creating characters and weaving their lives together I have looked at books on Amazon, had a cup of tea, half drifted off to sleeps, wokens ups agains, read about flash fiction and where I might submit some stories, and forgotten thoughts quicker than I’ve thought them.
Allow me to put out a request: That tomorrow the entire world be covered in snow and we all have a perfectly good excuse to stay in bed until the ice age passes. Not too much to ask, is it? Oh yeah, and make sure the ice age ends on 21st December and the airport reopens so my flight isn’t cancelled. Xmas in Belfast I do not want to miss: true xmas spirit with gaudy jumpers, champagne, Guinness, sausages wrapped in bacon, gravy, chocolate, whiskey, family games, drunkenness, and all the rest of the good stuff... by the fire.
And now I’m disappointing myself with this uncreative writing, so ... I say ... goodnight.