I was going to do another one about writing, but hey ho. What with half the family suffering with sciatica, torn ligaments, prolapsed discs, strained muscles and bad tempers, I’ve not thought too much about writing to be honest.
I’ve been doing it, writing that is, but doing it and thinking about the whys and wherefores are two very different things.
I heard my first cuckoo yesterday.
I sat on Clacton seafront earlier in the week admiring their wind farm. Actually admiring isn’t really the word is it, but there is something oddly fascinating about watching the sails spin round.
And you can’t hear them. All you can hear is the sea. You’d think with 48 of the things spinning round there’d be some sound wouldn’t you even at such a distance.
Bit boring really aren't they. More interesting when you see all the bits up close stacked on the quayside.
I had my laptop with me intending to do some work on a pocket novel, but the battery died after 5 minutes and I hadn’t got my notebook, naughty me. Let that be a lesson to you, always carry your notebook. I’ve never had a notebook run out of batteries, but I have had pens run out of ink – so best take a spare pen as well.
Oh well look at that, a paragraph about writing after all.