Random burblings since 1999
Yesterday, some shopping, The Terminal, and some quiet reflection centred on New York.
Today, airport at 6am to wave off the in-laws (really just making sure they got on the plane). Home to tidy up and head out to Chatelherault for a car launch thing for the new Renault Modus.
Keep those 100 Things questions coming!
Well, Tom Hanks plays a foreign man “stuck” in an airport. It’s a schmaltzy tale, reasonably well told but ultimately unaffecting. Nice story, average acting and direction. I HAVE spent two hours of my life doing more boring things, just…
Help me compile my 100 Things!
Right, I’ve started one of these several times and have never gotten very far. Seeing as it’s Friday, and we all need a good excuse to be pretending to work (although I never understand why this is different from any OTHER day of the week), I thought I’d enlist your help.
So, dear reader, what questions have you always wanted to ask me, or for that matter, what questions have you always wanted to ask anybody/everybody?
What I’m looking for, obviously, is some really deep philosophical questions*, stuff that will really make me think. So take your time, construct your question carefully and I’ll answer with the same care and thought.
I’ve taken a stab and thrown in some entries already, but I desperately need your help to get this finished. I doubt I’ll be online much over the weekend, so this’ll be here until Monday, no rush.
Leave (ALL) your questions in the comments box. Who knows, there MAY even be a prize for the best one!
Two flights, Glasgow to Malaga, booked on 10th January. Six days away from cold, wet, Scotland. Return flights booked as well, all for £187 for the two of us. Can’t say fairer than that. Gives us something to look forward to after Christmas as well.
Stuart’s visa application was approved! Finally he can be united with his true love.
I’ll be raising a glass for them tonight.
I love her dearly but I think my Mother is passing on her own aspirations. She once suggested that I should write a novel. Me! A novel!!
Well, if I’m honest, I have considered the idea and I do have a few plot outlines lying around. All of which contain, as it turns out, various aspects and plot twists that just happen to be very very similar to some films directed by one Alfred Hitchcock (OK, OK, they are identical).
Every now and then I get an idea, scribble a few pages of opening prose, add in a few notes about character development, plot movement and the like, then forget all about it. When, usually several months later, I stumble across the idea again, I re-read it, consume it, swill it around and then ponder to myself: “who the feck are you kidding?”.
It is said that everyone has at least one novel in them. I totally agree. It’s just that mine is crap and certainly nothing that is strikingly new, unusual, or different which, as everyone knows, is what maketh a novel.
In saying that, I do have a new opening line for my never to published magnum opus. As construed from a mass of silly emails today:
“Hordes of feathered gibbons, hated the world over, oh how they fantasised about the taste of the tiny orangutan tongues.”
Whaddya think? I think it has a certain ethereal quality, with nice deep dark undertones.
UPDATE: Nanowrimo anyone?