Ah, you wouldn't think that little bitlet would take nearly two hours to write, but it did. Still, I enjoyed the experience. Up until I finished it was nice and quiet and dark and cool here in the office, with the whole floor to myself. But I think the thing that really helped me unwind to write was taking my shoes off. It must be an antipodean thing.
Or maybe it was the crying. As I came in I saw, bobbing across my view, a bright yellow balloon, and I remembered my promise to myself that I'd ride in a balloon this year, and how I'd broken that promise, being too busy with work and little else, and I just broke down and I cried and I sobbed and sobbed until the balloon bobbed out of sight. Still, I think I needed a good cry.
One nice hot cup of tea later and I filled in that gaping great hole of not plot. I think it owes a lot to Badger and Dalziel & Pascoe, borrowed in case of an emergency, and even a whiff of Monarch of the Glen, but it'll do. I think there was a pinch, the tiniest pinch, of Raiders in there too. Oh well, shove it all in a blender and call it an original hodge podge or homage. The first bit was a clumsy rip from The Dark is Rising. I'll try to rewrite it later today.
Better to publish something half arsed with flashes of the old me, than nothing at all, I think. Besides, writing is the only zen activity I've got going.
I think being half asleep helps, too. I just went to make another cup of tea - with ice cold water. Ack, that's not going to work.
Didn't get much sleep last night. Folks were being lumpy and bumpy and it was only after they'd all gone abed could my poor eyelids finally close - and not be jarred open again mere seconds later.
Relic Hunter actually featured Nigel, from what I saw, Farscape dealt with boot camp, Bridge over the River Kwai and domestic violence, I think, and it amused me because I'd been humming Bridge over the River Kwai all through the little I saw of Attack of the Clones. Ewan's Alec Guiness impersonation amuses at first, then it begins to really grate, like a pub trick that's gone on too long. Pretty soon you're screaming for Ewan to stop, please stop. Only once did I see a bit of Ewan slip through.
Typical, had snorted my brother. Aussie actors break character when they're pretending to be drunk and start slurring in dipthongs, and Scots actors break character when trying to get a cheaper deal. Hello to the national stereotypes. Don't believe me? Listen to Phillip Quast in Me and Mrs Jones. You can take the boy out of Australia...
Hmmm, then there was X Files (I'm such a Doggett girl), Undercover Heart (ooh, I'd forgotten Tony Curran was in it - yay) and Stargate, as usual.
Yes, yes, I should be reading, but I wasn't up for reading. I actually wanted to get some sleep, but the bumpy thumpies kept me up and so the tv was on as a pacifier. To keep me from going all Lizzie Borden, because it was a close run thing, don't you know. Never mind the hormones, they're just being annoying in that itch you can't smite kinda way.
I need to float away on a balloon. Really, really.
But as it happens, Cinders will be staying here all night with urgent last minute work to do while everyone else is out having fun. I suspected as much. I truly despair of my so called life. I hate that the folks whose lovely lazy lifestyles I'm supporting don't get, just don't get, how unfair I feel this is. As my horoscope says, a Capricorn will do the work that has to be done, but we loathe being martyrs. I feel the need to thump somebody, as words apparently fail me.
I feel another small weep coming on. Honestly, when did I turn back into Fanny Price?