Some stuff I wrote

Ok, so this isn't particularly good, but as I promised to post something, and as I can't be arsed to write anything new today, this is what you're going to get.
I wrote it a couple of years ago, only about 500 words so not as long as it looks. Feel free to coment, good, bad, indifferent. As with most of the stuff I seem to write, somebody dies in it.

Amber

She always looked sad when she smiled, like she’d lost something once, and never learned how to get it back. She’d sit by the window and look out, her blonde oh-so-wavy hair down to her shoulders and smile that sad smile. She’d smiled like that since as long as anyone can remember. No one really knew why. Her father died when she was just two, and some folks said she got it from her mother. Others said she smiled just fine.
She was smiling her smile when she was in that bar down by the sea, that trendy one with the stripped wooden floors and barmen who spend all day making cocktails for girls who giggle, flipping bottles and glasses like performing seals in a circus.She worked in the new hotel up on Station road at the reception Pretty enough girl as she was, and only just in her twenties.But it was in that bar, the one by the sea with the performing seals and the giggling girls, where she met the man she’d kill. Not that anyone knew it then, least of all her. Smart looking fella with blonde hair who spoke soft. Spent his days driving around in a suit selling photocopiers or some such like with his blue eyes and white teeth. She smiled her sad smile, and he spoke his soft words, and they got along just fine.
She’d got along fine with lots of fellas before mind you, but she’d always end up breaking their hearts. Some said it was on account of her getting her own heart broke, and now she was taking out her pain on the rest of humanity, but me, I’d say she never really liked any of them enough to care.
Wasn’t long before he’d come around that bar every Saturday, and they’d talk and smile, and he’d walk her home. Folks said they looked like they’d always walked together, like that’s how it was meant to be.
It was in the spring, that day, and the trees were turning back to green. The plants in the gardens that looked so dead were starting to rise and look towards the sky. The grass was starting to grow again; almost ready for the first cut of the year, that day they called to say she’d not been in to work for three days. The crocuses were starting to open and brush the fields with colour when they broke down her door, and found her sitting there on the floor. Lying face down he was, the life all bled out of him across the hall with a kitchen knife in his back whilst the songbirds sang in her garden.
Her hands were all raw they said, like she’d scrubbed them all day, but she said she couldn’t get the blood off.
So they took her away, and everyone talked. Some said she’d killed him out of passion, others, that it was self-defence. Me, I think something’s broke in that pretty little head of hers, and there’s no fixing that. No one knows for sure, because she never spoke after that day. She just sits on the floor with her oh-so-wavy hair and sad smile. And they give her her medicine and ask her why but she never talks, she just stares out the window and smiles her smile.

I've eaten my own bodyweight in mince pies

Hello blog people.
I'm feeling somewhat 'rotund' after Christmas. What's more my lungs are still playing up, so I can't go running to burn off all the trifle, nuts, onion bhajis, mini-quiches, stuffing, roast potatoes, half a large tin of quality street, gravy, vast amounts of alcohol etc etc...
Oh well.
Got some good shit this year, none of the usual 'I thought it was a bit of fun' gifts that I stick in a box marked 'car-boot sale.' I must say it does help telling everyone that if they don't know what to get you, to get you a book token.
My highlight is a cocktail shaker and assorted accessories from the wife. I aim to be at 80's Tom Cruise level by the end of next week.

Anyways, not back to work until the 5th Jan, so plenty of time to do some writing. And I will post something here soon, honest. Tomorrow in fact (if I remember)!

Old people on the tube

Boris Johnson confirmed yesterday what many of us have always suspected - he's never travelled on the london underground.
As of 2nd Jan, holders of the 'Freedom pass' - itself a very good idea that allows pensioners free travel across the nations public transport system will be extended to 24 hours in London - currently they have to wait until after 9:30am to use it.
According to the Blonde one:
"I am delighted that elderly Freedom Pass holders will be able to use this important scheme to get to early morning hospital or other appointments that most Londoners would take for granted. That is why during the election campaign I promised elderly pass holders would no longer have to wait until well after breakfast to catch the bus."

Far be it from me to criticise such a noble scheme, but a sudden influx of the elderly on the tube at rush hour does not sound like a good thing to me. I used to live ooop north, and nothing pissed me off more in the mornings than being on a bus full of pensioners. Why are they going into town at 8am for crying out loud - nowhere is open! And nowehre is likely to be open because the busses don't stop to let workers on because they're full of oaps!
I can see granny rage becoming an increasing problem - take my word for it, nothing good will come of this.

Man flu

I've got man flu (it's like bird flu, only much worse). I've had it for a few days now and it shows no sign of shifting yet despite the copious amounts of medicinal alchol consumed at the weekend.
What makes it even worse is that I'm off work today, so I don't even get to call in sick.
Bloody typical.

On a positive note, I've had something of a breakthrough in my novel writing. Hopefully I'm on course now to finish the first draft by the end of January (though this may be wildly optimistic so don't hold me to it).
If I get time over the next few days I'll post some of my previous writings here so folks can tell me if they think I'm any good (or not.)
And yes, my gramma is normally better than that last sentence would have you believe, but I'm ill don't you know!

Working from home

Now I know what you're thinking. Working from home must be great, and well, it does have certain advantages. I get to watch bargain hunt for example, I also get to attend meetings by teleconferences wearing only my underwear, but it's not all fun and games.
Sat on your own for 10 hours a day with no one to talk to can be a bit of a downer. If it weren't for my collection of singing muffins, I thnk I'd go quite mad.

Hello world

Yes I know, crappy title for my first blog entry, but that's kinda my point.

Anyhow, I'm a struggling writer hoping to one day sell a novel for a bucket full of cash. Until then, I have to work (and sound enthusiastic about) a full-time job that I'm not enthusiastic about.
At least I get to work from home (which sounds great, but it's not) which means I probably get more time to write than the average Joe who's trying to get something published whilst holding down a bill-paying job.
I also like to rant, which will probably become self evident as time goes on.

Short one to start with, but I'm on my lunch break so don't have much time. I also need to go buy some ciggarettes and smoke at least 1 before hauling myself back to work.