The Trees

 

‘Where have you been?’ I hear you cry.

No? Well…I’ll imagine you’ve been crying anyway. Surely at least one tear was shed around the world. I mean, it’s been just over 2 months since the last entry and so you would be well within your rights to have welled up at the prospect that the blog may have finally bitten the dust, that my brief flurry into the world of shameless self-promotion and random ramblings was now nothing more than a beautiful memory. Well…think again!

Shameless self-promotion is well and truly alive and I am pleased to be using it to advertise the fact that I finally have something out there that you can read besides this increasingly-intermittent blog. At long last, my monologue collection, It was the tree’s fault, has been published (by that well-known publisher, me) and is available to buy from a staggeringly large number of places.

To start with, I have entered the world of Kindle – and all before I’ve got around to owning one myself – and so if you head over to Amazon (you may have heard of it – it’s where everyone buys their Christmas presents the weekend before Christmas when they realise they don’t fancy barging their way through crowds by going into actual shops) then you can pick yourself up a copy for a measly (great word) £2.19. And, just to help you get there a little quicker, here’s a link you may find helpful:

It was the tree's fault - Kindle version

Now, as a fan of equality and diversity, I decided that I simply couldn’t leave it there since there would no doubt be people who felt that e-books were the work of the devil or who were morally-opposed to supporting a website named after a river, and so I have also decided to make my work available to those of you who like websites named after female pop singers from the 70s:

It was the tree's fault - on Lulu.com

And then, just when you thought it was all over, I’ve got a perfect 3rd option for you: my surprisingly-popular-in-India website, www.contemporarychristiandrama.com – not only can you get the paperback and e-book from here but you will also soon be able to download an audio version of the book so that you can be ultra lazy and let me do the reading for you. I’ve got a lovely voice, so I promise you’ll enjoy it…

Talking of lovely things, my cat is most certainly unlovely at the moment. Does anyone out there know how to stop a cat dribbling over every surface in your house? Should we be touched that she wants to spread a little of herself everywhere we go or is this a cry for help, a call for us to bring her – as my wife insists – a companion to help her out of her loneliness? Perhaps she’s stressed? (Yes, apparently cats can be stressed – difficult life that they have.) After the week I’ve had, I’d quite like to sit down and explain what real stress is to her. That’d teach her.

Anyway, this has been a rather poor return to form I realise and so I apologise for the lengthy absence and for the shamelessness of this post. Work has been keeping me away from my writing and so I’ve not managed to get to a laptop much to share my thoughts on wheelie-bins, rain, cat slobber and broken lamps (coming soon!) that often recently. Also, I’ve just started another blog project where I am writing a series of blogs to compile into a book. I know, I’ve only just released one and here I am promising more! I guess I’m more like a bus than I ever thought I was…

Right, time to let you get back on with your lives.

Money for nothing

‘If you had a million pounds, what would you spend it on?’
I’m pretty sure this was asked of me once at school and, if not, then I’ve created a memory from scratch to suit the purposes of this blog.
My answer?
‘Well, I guess there are a few options.’ (I was an indecisive child.) ‘A mansion would certainly be very tempting and I’d like to do a round the world trip, perhaps buying an Aston Martin on my return. Failing that, I’d buy Norwich City Football Club (surely they can’t be worth more than a million…) and would go some way to solving world hunger. Or, failing that, world peace.’
OK, I may have embellished my responses slightly / made them up entirely, but whatever I actually said (assuming this moment happened) definitely focussed on exciting things that I could spend the money on. I was optimistic, full of belief that this would of course happen one day and so it was well worth putting in the time now to make sure I was well-prepared for the big day.
Fast forward a few years and we arrive at October 5th 2011 and I am waltzing down the pavement on my way to yet another day in a job that would only earn me a million pounds if I failed to spend a penny (no, not that type of penny…) in about 35 months. Unfortunately, we seem to live in a world in which it’s impossible to avoid spending at least a couple of pounds a month and so those 35 months are looking pretty ambitious. If we assume that I may make a profit of about £100 a month, we’re now looking at around 10,000 months for that million to appear. Call me pessimistic, but I’m not sure I’m going to live that long…
N.B. If my Maths are incorrect, that is no surprise whatsoever.
So, what would make me think about money on October 5th 2011? Well, it turns out that the new movie ‘Courageous’ which has just been released in America has only gone and made $9 million in the opening weekend. No, I’m afraid I didn’t write this one but what if I had? And, more pressingly, what if the movie that Neil and I are writing ends up being as successful as this? Surely after hearing this news no walk to work would be complete without a good 20 minutes of contemplation around this age-old question: ‘What would I spend a million pounds on?’
Please note: for the purposes of this fantasy, I decided that my ‘cut’ for writing the film would be £1 million. I know, I’ve been very generous and allowed the director, actors and others a slice of the financial pie too…
So, what would I – 27 year-old husband-of-one Sam Lenton – spend the money on? A new car? A shiny collar for Maisie? A new wheelie-bin? (While we’re on the topic of wheelie-bins, I passed one today with a picture of Tweety-Pie on it, which made very little sense to me. ‘Tweety’ was spelt like that on the bin, by the way, in case you’re thinking I’ve got that very wrong.)
No, none of those things it turns out. Where does my mind go first? Wait for it…
The mortgage.
I would, it seems, pay off the mortgage. And, once that excitement is out of the way, the next suggestion to pop into my head was: my student loan. Forget mansions and holidays, it seems that the adult me is now interested in paying off debt.
Then, as I listened to Tim Hughes on my MP3 player, I remembered that, as a Christian, it would probably be a good idea to consider how much I would give away. Would a tenth be appropriate or would I feel that greater generosity was ‘required’ in this moment? If so, how much generosity and where should my money go? The church? Charity? Setting up my own home for abused cats?
Money’s an annoying thing. We love to have it but it doesn’t half cause us (or me, at least) confusion when it comes to working out how to spend it. I mean, am I being a wise steward of what God has given me if I buy that Ginster’s sausage roll for lunch for the princely sum of £1, when I could quite easily have brought a packet of crisps from home?
Life is full of tough decisions. One day, perhaps, I will be faced with the 'mortgage or holiday’ dilemma after all, as our film soars to the top of the charts, but to be honest I think my biggest difficulty will be working out the smaller questions, such as whether or not to now start buying fish and chips from a shop rather than making them myself at home.
Oh, and idea number 4 for how I’d spend my money? An iPad. I’ll buy an iPad. The child in me will enjoy that one.
(Correction - '35 months' should, of course, have read '35 years'. Maths brings unwanted recognition of one's weaknesses...)

Sign o’ the times

Just a brief blog today with a brief idea…

Finally, I know what the world needs: Voice-activated LED panels on the back of cars.

No longer would I need to feel frustrated that I can’t communicate with the car behind me when I so desperately want to send them a message that would explain why events have panned out in such a way. All I need to do is open my mouth and utter those immortal words: ‘Look, my car has a pretty tiny engine and so it’s not exactly going to be able to pull away at the speed you’re hoping to go, is it? I’d appreciate your patience in this matter and apologise in advance for any inconvenience caused to your day.’ Problem solved.

Or, perhaps I could support the hazard lights in their act of warning by shouting out: ‘Death imminent. Stopping quickly is advised. Strongly advised.’

Or we could share poetry with each other or even Bible verses. It could be the greatest innovation in evangelism since…well, the last one.

We could ban certain words to avoid potential corruption. Offensive messages would be logged by cameras located in the front of all cars (yes, we’ve added that to the mix now) and would lead to points going on your license. Throw in 2 or more ‘f-words’ (folly is fine by the way, if you’re describing a mistake you have made…) and you’re banned from driving for a month.

Road rage is eliminated. Relationships are initiated. The Gospel is spread.

Get me on Dragon’s Den now…

Hands open

‘Look, Mum! No hands!’

It seems that these words of childish exuberance are rearing their head on our streets, albeit in their slightly more dangerous adult form:

‘Look, England! No brain!’

Harsh words? Well, yes. But surely ‘no brain’ is exactly what some people are not only demonstrating but are also anticipating as a future accident waits around the corner to rid them of their grey matter once and for all. As a child, lifting your hands off the handlebars for an ambitious half a second (which, let’s be honest, felt like at least a full minute when you did it) was the signal that you were truly brave, a fully initiated member of society who could hold their head high in the park, perhaps even strut while striding past those pathetic six year olds (you are seven in this story, by the way) who could only dream of lifting a finger, let alone a hand, off their handlebars. They probably still used stabilisers too. You – that’s right, you – were destined for glory because your very own mum had seen you dice with death. And all while being decked out in a fluorescent orange helmet and knee pads…

And then we become adults. Well, some of us do. Some of us walk, drive cars and ride bikes with both hands on the bars, well aware that we are surrounded by machines that are more than capable of crushing us if we make just the slightest slip. (Anyone been put off cycling yet?)

Some of us, on the other hand, think the game is still on. Mum is around every corner, cheering us on as we go for our new personal best, perhaps even occupying our fingers with something else entirely – phones being the most popular option currently – just to prove that, not only can we do without those handlebars, but we can turn our attention to something far more interesting (like the handlebar app on our phone). And you can forget the orange helmet – that’s gone completely, and I don’t just mean the colour…

My favourite ‘stupid cycling incident’ (or SCI, as they’ll forever be called) took the whole ‘I can do whatever I like with my hands’ claim to a whole new level, tore through all previous levels, mocked them for being so unimaginative and made any future efforts at handlebar-free cycling pale into insignificance. This was more than a phone. (No, it wasn’t two phones.) This was a bowl. A bowl containing noodles. A bowl held in the left hand. And the right hand? Well, let’s just say that his fingers were expertly grasping chop-sticks that were extracting the noodles and effortlessly raising them to the mouth above. While cycling. Quickly. In a straight line.

‘Look, Mum! Noodles!’

Is it wrong to have wanted to have kicked the bike?

Or perhaps we should embrace this as the perfect demonstration of multi-tasking. Maybe we should all be trying out such things? Perhaps someone who reads this might like to go for a ride on their skateboard (you probably don’t own a skateboard if you’re a follower of my blog but I saw one earlier and so my head went there…) while making a cucumber sandwich. Sound easy? You’ll need a knife, a cucumber, a bread board, two slices of bread and a tub of margarine.
Consider it a blog challenge. And, if that doesn’t take your fancy, you could always try making a cup of camomile tea while skipping gaily down the street.

‘Look, Mum! Burned hands!’

Same Band

Spying works. Spying brings unexpected discoveries. Spying enhances your music collection.

Readers of my first batch of blogs many months ago will know that I occasionally (OK, often) dropped in the name ‘Mark Watson’, normally alongside a self-deprecating comment about how much better he was than me, accompanied by an open invitation to a game of table-tennis if anyone is able to hook us up. Having recently trawled through his website and spied on the tweets he is sending to other people (yes, this is perfectly normal behaviour – why are you looking at the screen like that?), I stumbled across further evidence that, not only is he more successful than me at doing stand-up comedy gigs before crowds of hundreds (to be fair to me, my career in that particular area has yet to take off), but it appears that he is also far more adept at finding out about bands reforming and even has the gumption – what a cracking word – to contact such a band to check whether they really are the same band that produced the song ‘Same Band’ back in the heady year of 1999. It turns out, you see, that he had indeed correctly identified the band and, one quick Google & Facebook search later, I too found myself reacquainted with one of the most bizarre but incredible bands of the late 90s: Ultrasound.

I don’t expect you to like them. Not many people did really – hence the solitary mammoth debut album from ‘99 that has perhaps the greatest album sleeve ever created (look it up if you ever get the chance – it’s not just the artwork on the front cover, the whole thing opens up to show this most incredible piece of art).  But they’re back and with a storming new single (see video below), which I am very much enjoying and am using as the primary evidence for my new campaign to encourage people to spy on tweets. I’m wondering what else I’ve missed – have Mansun finally got back together? Have they made a 4th Matrix film that went straight to DVD and didn’t get much of a press? Is Mark Watson heading on a tour of Southampton, looking for people to challenge him to a good old-fashioned game of ping-pong? Who knows, but maybe twitter will and so let’s all read as much as we can so that we don’t miss out on any more of this marvellous world.

In other news, I’ve just spent the last week home alone, which was definitely less eventful than Macauley Culkin’s many adventures, and so I have learned a few things about myself that I would like to share:

1) I am perfectly happy to play an long-running game of buckaroo/jenga with pots, pans and baking dishes.

2) I am so keen to train my cat to use the cat-flap properly that I will let her in the house via the door before taking her back outside and trying to push her through the cat-flap (in a tasteful, not-needing-to-be-reported-to-the-RSPCA-type-of-way, I should point out).

3) I will invent all sorts of interesting combinations of food for dinner – my favourite being: left over curry, couscous, broccoli, peas and a slice of crusty bread with tuna and sweetcorn spread.

4) I will still make as much coffee as I would if there were two of us and will solve this issue by drinking twice as much as usual. Genius.

5) I will still make lists of things that I put on blogs in an attempt to amuse readers and to give the impression that I have something worthwhile to say this week.

In other, other news – news on the novel and monologue collection is quiet because I am currently waiting for a cover to be made for both and for people who were reading the novel to come back to me with their comments so that I can turn it from being simply fantastic to being simply earth-shatteringly monumental. You will, of course, be informed (whether you like it or not) when  - sorry, I need to pause mid-sentence to tell you that I’ve just seen 3 dogs wearing coats outside and the one wearing the yellow one looked pretty fed up – one or both of the projects are ready to go.

In the meantime, here’s ‘Welfare State’ by Ultrasound. Don’t expect to like it but be happy for me that I do…

P.S. My week of being home alone was not indicative of any marital difficulties – my wife was visiting her sister to see her new baby. Just in case you were worried…

Summer Holiday

My summer holiday comes to an end today. After a mere 5 weeks and two days, I am once again being expected to get up in the mornings, dress in smart trousers and shirt and do the job I’m paid to do. I know, I’m outraged too. 5 weeks and two days? Who can possibly be expected to return to top form after such a short break? Back in my good old public school days, I lazed around for a full 9 weeks and so, frankly, it beggars belief that I am supposed to be at my best after only just a little over a month’s rest. It’s almost like they want the children to fail…

To celebrate the end of the summer holiday, here are 5 things that are great and 5 things that are frustrating about summer holidays:

Great

1) We get to see the Mastercard advert with teachers leaping into the pool while Alice Cooper’s ‘School’s Out’ rings out.

2) When you make sandwiches for lunch, you get to put them on an actual plate and eat them within a few minutes of making them rather than squishing them out of shape so that they fit in an ice-cream tub that won’t get opened again for at least 4, perhaps 5, hours.

3) Lying in bed while your wife gets up early to go to work.

4) Being able to beat your record for ‘number of times I have refreshed the Facebook page today’.

5) Having the time to make two websites, complete a monologue collection and write regular blog entries (by the way, the websites are still alive and well and looking forward to being visited if you haven’t had the chance to do so yet…).

Frustrating

1) People expressing their horror that teachers get 6 weeks off (5 weeks, 2 days actually…), as if this is a new thing that has just started and that no-one knew anything about. We all went to school. We all lazed around for 6 weeks (well, 9 if you went to a school that had its assemblies in a 900-year-old Cathedral…). We all considered becoming teachers for a brief moment when we remembered that they too got the holidays we got – but, and it’s a big but, you decided to go and do something else…

2) Rain – we’ve spoken about it quite a few times but, really, what is going on with the clouds at the moment? I’m sure August used to be nice. What did we do to it to make it like this?

3) Children are on holiday too.

4) In a non-World Cup or European Championships year, there is simply not enough football to watch. Why stop the football season when we’re finally around to watch it all?

5) False hope – we begin the holiday feeling as though we’ve come to the end of work, as though we’ll never need to enter that office again, and yet within a few weeks you’re beginning to realise just how few days you have left before it begins all over again…

Well, I’m sitting here looking at the rain soaking the BBQ I forgot to put away last night, waiting for my co-screenwriter to turn up for a brainstorming session to come up with an Oscar-winning storyline for our future film. By the way, has anyone actually dumped the word ‘brainstorming’ like we were supposed to and begun using the term ‘thought shower’? Personally, I don’t really think that people in England need another reference to rain and isn’t there something a little contradictory about having a shower while doing some ‘blue sky thinking’?

Right, time to make the most of every minute of my last day of holiday. I can feel a Facebook and Twitter check coming up, followed by regular refreshing of the ‘stats’ page of my blog to see how many people have read this within the last 5 minutes…

Kiss your past good-bye

So, it was A-Level results day today. All those months of work come down to a few letters on a piece of paper that might well determine not only where you live for the next three years but where you end up getting up a job and settling down for the foreseeable future. It’s always a strange thought that – Southampton very much feels like home for me now and yet I’m only here because my wife went to university here. Just think, I could have been eulogising over Exeter instead. Hmm, come to think of it, they probably don’t have the issues with the bins that we’ve had…

Talking of the future – well, we weren’t really but I needed a link – I’ve now finished my monologue collection and am looking forward to thrusting that upon the nation shortly. I’m not sure if ‘thrusting’ is the correct verb but it does, at least, express my acknowledgement that people may not exactly be queuing up, Harry Potter-style, to pick up their copy. Nevertheless, the thing will exist, and that’s more than can be said for things that don’t exist…

Also, I’ve just had my first meeting about co-writing a screenplay for a proper movie. As in, those things that last 90 minutes and appear on screens rather than just those ones that only you and your sub-conscious have ever seen or been credited for. I’m sure you know the sort – you’ve seen films. Well, think of one of those and now think about me writing one. Can’t see it? No, neither can I really. Thankfully, I won’t be alone (as you may have deduced from the ‘co’ bit earlier) and so the potential existence and success of the project doesn’t entirely rest on my shoulders. Whatever happens, work begins on Tuesday and the plan is to come up with a story. What could be easier?

That news was potentially so massive that this news simply pales into insignificance in comparison – I bought my first aubergine today. At least, I think it was my first. You’d have thought I’d have remembered my first aubergine, wouldn’t you, so I am assuming that today is my debut aubergine today. I enjoy the word aubergine (pronounced oh! – ber – jean) and am rather partial to the word moussaka too (which I misspelt twice before finally getting it right), so hopefully the two will come together in glorious harmony later this evening. This blog is beginning to resemble Julia and Julia more every day (which isn’t a bad thing if it secures me that movie deal we spoke about many months ago).

Verdict on the moussaka and further references to Aerosmith coming up soon…

Jewel Box

Maybe I’m just becoming a very paranoid and suspicious young man but there is certainly something slightly disconcerting about a man turning up at your door clutching a messy pile of yellow fliers saying that he is going around the neighbourhood asking whether anyone’s got any jewellery (‘such as gold or silver’, he says, clearly unconvinced I know what jewellery is) that he could valuate. More concerning would be if anyone then followed his request by presenting him with a box full of diamond necklaces and gold rings, eagerly determined to find out whether they might be able to get a couple of quid after all. I mean, how’s anyone supposed to sell anything these days unless someone turns up at their door anyway?

Needless to say, I insisted in an overly-assertive tone (which probably sounded a little suspicious, come to think of it) that we in fact have very little jewellery in the house. So little jewellery that I’m actually waiting for the guy who buys paper clips and elastic bands to come round later that morning so that I can afford to buy a couple of necklaces for my poor, deprived wife.

In other news, I came across an interesting article by Sam Leith earlier (which Nick Page pointed people to on Twitter) and so I wanted to show you a paragraph from it here as it touches upon some of the things I’ve mentioned from time to time and sums up my general approach to my days recently…

A large number of literate westerners spend most of their waking hours at computers, and those computers are connected to the web. The characteristic activity on such a computer has been given the pleasing name "wilfing", adapted from the acronym WWILF, or "What was I looking for?" You work a bit. You check if it's your move in Facebook Scrabble. You get an email. You answer it. You get a text. You answer it. Since your phone's in your hand, you play Angry Birds for five minutes. You work a bit. You go online to check something, get distracted by a link, forget what you were looking for, stumble on a picture of a duck that looks like Hitler, share it on Twitter, rinse and repeat.

The debate he then gets into is whether this proliferation of activities reflects the fact that we are cleverer than we used to be, since we can balance so many things at once, or whether we’re less capable then we used to be because we can’t maintain our focus on any one thing for that long at all. Since I’m a pretty big wilfer, I’m going to support the ‘we are cleverer’ argument…

In writing news, I’m now just one monologue away from having the collection ready to go and so my main focus is now on trying to find someone who can draw me a front cover. So, blog readers, is there anyone out there who would be up for drawing a few cartoon people, a cartoon snake and a cartoon tree? This is a genuine offer of stardom – well, the opportunity to appear on Amazon at least. Any takers?

I hope you’ve enjoyed having a browse of my websites. Lots keeps getting added and so do check back if you haven’t seen them for a few days – particularly the Contemporary Christian Drama one. Recently, I’ve been recording audio versions of the monologues, which has been good fun – if only for making me feel like I’m having a brief stint as a recording artist, seeing my name come up on Windows Media Player, fulfilling in a very roundabout and not really accurate way my long-held ambition to be a rock-star. OK, so there may be no guitars, drums or singing, but it’s a start at least.

Right, time to get the washing in before it rains and I have an awkward conversation with my wife on her return from work. It does mean I’ll be away from the front door for a few minutes – hope I don’t miss anyone coming round to buy any spare dust from our hoover (unluckily for them, if so, I managed to spill most of it on the kitchen floor yesterday)…

Video killed the radio star

It finally happened – I made it on to YouTube. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in a video of me slipping on the ice and falling on my backside in front of hundreds of students. Nor was it me holding up a baby and trying to get it to say ‘pizza’ so that millions of people around the world would comment on how cute my son/daughter was. (Please note: I do not have a son/daughter and do not have one in ‘the oven’, as it were, either…)

In fact, my YouTube debut comes in the form of a 6 minute clip of my Christmas play, ‘Who’s the Baby?’, and to be fair I’m not actually in the clip apart from my name appearing in the credits at the end along with a link to my website, but it’s a start nonetheless.

In an act of remarkable technical boldness (remarkable being a slight overstatement), I’m going to try and post the video link here:

Here it is–the world’s first chance to slate/praise my play…

It may not be the greatest piece of art ever created – in fact, I wouldn’t even begin to suggest that it might be – but it’s out there at least. And, as people sometimes rudely say when they burp, ‘better out than in’…

I’ve been quite a geek today, playing around with my websites and adding things like audio previews and this video clip to try and make everything look a little more jazzy. I suppose I should probably have included some actual jazz too, but it didn’t seem to fit the mood.

My mother-in-law has also posted on YouTube today and this one is a video of her granddaughter bending her toes (no, I’m not going to post the link here – but you can search for ‘bend your big toe if you like milk’ if you really want to…). Shall we take a vote on which video is likely to get the most hits?

Aside from website creation, I’ve been enjoying pretending to be other people again, writing monologues from the perspectives of teenage girls, men who almost got killed by their own fathers, and much more. Looking forward to getting my monologue collection out there soon!

Slightly self-indulgent of me I know but I’m just going to post my links one more time and then scamper off behind the settee before anyone shouts at me…

http://samlentonwriter.webs.com/

http://www.contemporarychristiandrama.com/

Sorry. I’ll be good next time and spend a few paragraphs complaining about pavements or something equally outrageous. Talking of outrageous, I’m pleased to see London was a little calmer last night, although less pleased to see Manchester getting in on the act. I know this blog has done some great things in the past (well, when I say ‘done’ I do of course mean, ‘failed to do but gave it a jolly good go’) trying to sort out our issues with rain and rubbish, but there would surely be nothing greater we could do than help in some way to put an end to this rioting. And so, if you know a rioter or someone who looks like a rioter (that’s right, we’re thinking of you) then why not send them to this web address for a good old read? Nothing stops people from mindless acts of violence like a good old read of a blog. Or so I assume anyway…

Alternatively (or, I should probably say, ‘additionally’), we could all start praying. Prayer’s always a good idea. Arguably, even better than reading this blog.

Panic

Listening to The Smiths this afternoon might not have been my wisest move. Hot on the heels from singing along to the words ‘Panic on the streets of London, panic on the streets of Birmingham’, two songs later I was on to ‘London’ and now I’m about to listen to ‘Shoplifters of the world unite’. It is perhaps the most inappropriate playlist I could have chosen given the events of the last couple of days and yet it was, I promise you, entirely unintentional.

I certainly don’t want to make light of any of the events we’ve witnessed in London, Birmingham and elsewhere, particularly last night when Sky News stopped being a repetitive flourish of 15 minute headlines and became the gripping movie you just can’t stop watching. Unfortunately, the truth that hits you is that this simply isn’t a movie and, in fact, the building burning down on live TV is not some exciting explosion from a Bruce Willis film but rather the building from which five generations of a family have sold furniture to the community. Everything gone in a few moments of mindless violence. It is, quite frankly, heart-breaking and I pray that somehow we have seen the end of this or, at the very least, the worst of it.

I’m sorry for the slight break between the previous blog and this one. I’ve been creating two websites that I am ready for you to have a look at now and so I hope that you will enjoy having a browse and will feel free to offer me your honest thoughts once you’ve taken a look. You’ll notice that the blog has been doubled up on the personal site and that there are some other materials to check out. There is still a lot to be added though and so do check back when you can to see more!

Here we go…

Firstly, my personal site to provide news of my writing and to showcase some of my work: http://samlentonwriter.webs.com

(This will, hopefully, have a better web address in the future but this will do for now!)

Secondly, I’ve created a website to host and distribute the writing I do for churches: www.contemporarychristiandrama.com

As I said, there’s a lot more to add but at least it gives you an idea at the moment of what I’m putting out there.

OK, now this is much better – I’m listening to a song about a boy having a thorn in his side. Should be safe there. Saying that, the next one (which has just begun as I type this) is ‘Money changes everything’…

Cold Turkey

Right, time to put an end to this blog break and relieve the heart palpitations threatening the lives of my readers. 21 days is simply far too long to go without an entry. I suppose I should have realised that before I went away and set up a guest-blogger (like the supply teacher everyone prefers) to continue the merriment while I lay on the sunbed in Turkey.

Talking of Turkey, you probably don’t want to hear about just how beautiful the weather was, just how relaxing it was to spend 11 days lying around doing nothing, just how enjoyable it was to have the chance to read for hours on end, just how pleasurable it was to eat out at restaurants every meal or just how good the local lager was. So, I guess I won’t say anything about that then…

If it makes you feel any better, I did have to go through the experience of a 5 hour delay at the airport, which also gave me a taster of what it might be like to be homeless as I tried to sleep on a bench or on the cold floor outside the toilets. 12 hours after I’d been resting on a sunbed and here I was with not even the slightest bit of padding for my poor little head. I know many people have had far worse airport experiences, so I won’t allow this to become a ‘woe is me’ moment but it was tiring and frustrating nonetheless and did give me a slight glimpse of what many people have to go through on a daily basis. Not good.

I have to admit that I did check my own blog a couple of times while away (which, on the plus side, has now added Turkey to the list of countries from which someone has viewed my page – give it a few weeks and I’ll forget that it was me and will assume I have a new follower), just to check that everything was OK and that no-one had left me an urgent message saying that they couldn’t cope without an update. In fact, I found it quite difficult to detach myself entirely from this new ‘I’m a writer!’ persona I’m nurturing at the moment, and I scribbled down the opening chapter of novel number 2 one day mid-way through the holiday, along with a sketchy plan for the novel as a whole, which included features such as arrows, half-finished numbered lists, question marks and squiggly lines crossing out ideas. Desperate to read it yet? Strangely, it already has a title (and a far better title than novel number 1 to boot). Even stranger, the word ‘boot’ in the previous sentence gives you a massive clue as to what the novel is about. I mean, I’ve effectively given it all away if you think about it. Just play a little game of word association and it won’t take long to end up at the key word of the title. One clue: it rhymes with flu. Hopefully it’ll turn out to be just as contagious…

I also met a lovely family who spoke to me as if I were undoubtedly the next great author, for which I am very grateful, and so I do hope that if they have ended up reading this blog and if they come across the novel on its imminent launch that they won’t end up being too disappointed!

The next few weeks are big weeks in the life of Sam Lenton. They’re still 7 days long, in case you think I’ve struck a deal with God for a bit extra, but they’re days in which various writing projects are coming to a head and so I am hopeful that there will be news to share in the forthcoming blogs. If these entries become a little more self-centred than usual (I know, I struggle to see how that’s possible either) then I do apologise and I ask you to put it down to youthful exuberance and innocence rather than arrogant triumphalism or whatever else might spring to mind. Besides, there’s always the return to work at the end of August to bring me back down to earth anyway.

It’s good to be back.

Kindling

After writing a novel and a daily blog entry last week, it’s hard not to feel like a bit of a slacker this week. There’s been no novel, no play, no monologue. In fact, there’s barely been an email and just a single tweet. It’s almost like I don’t exist.

Lots of thinking has happened this week though and it mainly surrounds the issue of what to do with the big lump of writing I completed last week. It turns out that I may not need to go through the whole rigmarole (I’ve always wanted to type that word) of applying to dozens of publishers, receiving rejection letters and finding myself curled up in a little ball underneath the desk, as the lovely people at Amazon have gone and created something called Kindle Direct Publishing that may well provide an alternative path to glory. Or, at least, provide an opportunity for me to ‘get it out there’, as they say, and enable people to read this thing once and for all (or twice, if you fancy a re-read). I may have naively missed something crucial about all this that sends me crawling back to the space beneath the table but as it stands it looks quite tempting. It’s also possible to use a website such as Createspace or Lulu to provide print copies of the book on demand, so that might be an additional option.

So, what do people think about Kindle anyway? Sales have been amazing and it looks like the way to go but I haven’t gone there yet myself and so I’ve not really got much of a sense of what it’s like to sit down and read something on one for more than 30 seconds. The good thing, it seems, is that you don’t actually need a Kindle to read something on Kindle, as you can download Kindle software for your PC or laptop and read it on there. It still seems a bit weird though and I wonder how many people would take a punt on an unknown author, however captivating the name ‘Sam Lenton’ might be?

Lots of thinking has also gone into creating at least one website, possibly two, over the next couple of months and so I hope to be able to provide you with a link soon. Obviously, anything you can do to tell the world about me would be greatly appreciated. Try, if possible, to focus on the positives…

A brief cat update: we had a glorious repeat of the tongue-stuck-on-collar incident of a couple of weeks ago last night. Unfortunately, she seems to now be able to shake her tongue off the collar herself (admittedly with some effort) and so it’s clear that she needs me even less than I thought she did. On the plus side, hopefully the chances of ‘death by tongue-on-collar’ are diminishing by the day.

I’m afraid there’ll be a bit of a blog break for the next two weeks, as we are heading off on a much-needed holiday. The house will still be occupied though (by more than just the cat), so I’m afraid there’s no point publicising this news to your burglar friends. If, by the way, you do have burglar friends then can I please encourage you to work with them to get them to reform and change their ways? Burglary is wrong. There, I said it.

If the news of the blog break is coming as a devastating shock, remember that the previous 34 entries are still alive and well and so you can re-read and reminisce at your pleasure. Also, every entry apart from last week’s special blogs has the title of a song as it’s title, so I have effectively prepared a summer playlist for you. Why not try it out on Spotify? And, if that’s not enough, then I guess you could just compose a sonnet or whatever it is that the kids get up to these days.

See you in August!

Mini-blog-journal-type-thing Day 5

So, the writing week has come to an end. I feel like we’ve been through a lot together in these mini-blogs. We’ve covered all sorts of vital information, such as the number of cups of coffee I’ve had in the day, how many white vans have been parked outside and what the public (well, my street) must have thought as I marched purposefully towards my house yesterday evening clasping a larger-than-usual onion. You even know how many words I’ve written and how I’ve felt about it all. It’s like candid camera: the blog version. I mean, they say you should be careful about what you put on the internet, but I’ve just gone and put it out there like some sort of shameless exhibitionist. *Slaps wrist*

Here’s the good news: I actually finished the first draft!

I wasn’t expecting to succeed this week, particularly as I hadn’t looked at the novel for months, but I’ve had a really good week and I can now happily tell you that I’m at the print-it-out-and-discover-if-it’s-any-good stage. Let’s hope it is. If only to avoid it being a significant waste of paper.

Sadly, this is likely to be the end of the daily journals, as I need to return to my real job next week and so it’s not likely that I’ll have the time to experience interesting things, let alone write about them. The blog will continue sporadically though, as always, and will continue to press ahead with its primary aim of solving the world’s problems. We’ve pretty much dealt with rain and political revolution, so the prospects are good.

And now, by popular demand, here’s the final daily overview:

Words written: too hard to tell and quite a few have been deleted today, so I may even be in the red…

Lamp turned on/off: 8(ish) – why can’t the sun just make up its mind?

Tomb Raider games purchased in the Steam sale: 1

Sense of regret that I wasn’t at work this week: Absent

Length of a visit from a friend: 19 minutes

New websites created by members of my family: 1 (http://goingdeeperwithgod.com/index.php)

Best Google search: Girls names beginning with R (well, why do the thinking when google can do it for you?)

The feeling that I simply eat too many sausage rolls: moderate to high

Optimism Level: 85%

Chances of completing first draft of novel this week: 100%

That’s all for the mini-blog-journal-type-things that have documented my 5 days as a proper writer. If these have been the only 5 days I ever have then I will look back on them fondly and with much gratitude.

Thank you for being with me through them!

Mini-blog-journal-type-thing Day 4

Well, we’re into the home straight in this writing week now (assuming that weeks have ‘home straights’) and so, as if by magic, I also seem to be heading into the home straight as far as the novel is concerned. I’m going to stop writing the words ‘home straight’ now. I also plan to stop using inverted commas. Exciting times.

I literally leapt for joy this morning when I came up with the ending of my novel. And, yes, I actually did use the word ‘literally’ (oops) accurately in that sentence (as opposed to when people say things like, ‘I literally fell off the edge of the world when she dumped me’). Sorry, I just guess I’m addicted to inverted commas. We all have weaknesses.

It was a good moment. Coffee was brewing. And so, it seemed, were ideas. It’s too early to class it a good or a bad idea but it’s an idea at least, and that’s what counts. The other positive about it is that it wasn’t an idea that meant I would need to be writing for another few years before I reached that end point. In fact, the end point might even be achievable before this evening is over. Which is quite a tantalising prospect.

Of course, there is quite a difference between writing the ending and finishing the novel, but it’s going to be good to tick one of those off the list at least.

Daily Overview:

Words written (so far): 3,713

Trips to shops: 2

Trousers or shorts?: Shorts

Items purchased on 2nd shop trip: A single onion

Weird experiences: 1 – walking up my street clasping a large onion in my left hand, assuming that I was frightening everyone I passed who naturally thought I was about to hurl it through their window or use it as an assault weapon to steal their handbag.

Longer than usual entries in the daily overview: 1

Optimism Level: 8.5

Chances of writing the ending by the end of the week: 95%

Days left being a professional writer: 1

Words I need to look up in the dictionary: Professional

Mini-blog-journal-type-thing Day 3

A picture blog for you today (and a bit of a bonus one, as I don’t think I’ll advertise this one on Twitter or Facebook, so you can consider yourself very fortunate if you stumble across this…). Right, now, the following images all relate to what I have been writing today. Your task – bet you didn’t expect there to be a task! – is to come up with an interesting story involving all of these things. Or, alternatively, you could just skip to the ‘Day Overview’ section at the bottom…

‘Day Overview’:

Words written: 4,533 (I think – there’s some debate (with myself) over where I started today)

References to scissors: 6

Sausage rolls defrosted: 1 (45 seconds in the microwave, if you fancy a bit of DIY)

Best new person I’m following on Twitter: Chris Addison

Unexpected early packages: 1

Need to re-read what I’ve written recently: moderate to urgent

Optimism rating: 7.5

Chances of completing the novel this week: 60%

Mini-blog-journal-type-thing Day 2

Things I’ve observed today:

- It’s a lot harder to get going with your writing when you don’t start until the afternoon (not strictly my fault, mind you)

- Rain – yep, it’s back.

- It’s quite exciting when you come up with a slight plot twist that breathes new life into your writing.

- It’s quite daunting when you come up with a slight plot twist that threatens to blast open gaping holes in your writing.

- A man wearing a yellow rain-jacket.

- When you type into google, ‘what do tremors grow?’, it assumes you’re asking about tumours instead. Trust me, the original question does make some sense within context…

Day overview:

Words written:2,987 (hmm, I probably should have written 13 more words before writing this, shouldn’t I?

Songs sung: 1 (and before an audience of about 200, I’ll have you know)

Future pet refusals: 1 (sorry, but it really isn’t time for another cat to join the household…)

Bad cups of coffee: 1

Optimism Level for novel: 6/10

Chances of completing novel this week: 52%

Mini-blog-journal-type-thing Day 1

This won’t make a huge amount of sense to you unless you’ve read the ‘Mr Writer’ blog entry, and perhaps won’t make much sense anyway, but here we go…

Words written: 4,120

Drinks: 4 (2 tea, 2 coffee)

Food: 4 sandwiches and a packet of wotsits

Music: Coldplay and Dream Theater

Things I googled: ‘what smoke from Vatican signifies’

Words put into thesaurus.com: hurtled, compel

Best word used: paralysation

Plot twists: 1

White vans outside house: 2

Strokes of the cat: 1

Games on FIFA 11: 2 (both losses)

TV: Muse at Glastonbury from 2010 (3 songs) and 5 minutes of Sky Sports News

Time spent sitting in garden: 6 minutes

Tweets: 3

Refreshed Facebook page: 35 (approximately)

Optimism level for novel (out of 10): 7

Chance of completing novel by end of week: 55%

Mr Writer

Ladies and gentlemen, for one week only I will be a professional writer.

That’s right, I’ll be sat at this desk, using this laptop, typing with these fingers, for an entire week, making the ‘magic’ happen and coming up with lots of other words that need to be put in inverted commas. I won’t be checking the clock to see when I should be somewhere else, and nor will I be feeling as though I really should be doing some marking or something else teacher-related, such as coming up with fresh new ways to tell people that it’s their own time they’re wasting. No, it will just be my own time I’m wasting or, hopefully, my own time I’m using valuably.

Depending on how things are going, I may keep a mini-blog-journal-type-thing over this week to record progress or the lack of it, and so stay tuned for that if that’s the sort of thing you get out of bed to read (you can of course stay in bed to read it if you’ve got a laptop or smartphone – I’m quite happy for you to read this anywhere really). If nothing’s appeared by Wednesday, you can assume that I’m doing really well on FIFA 11 and less well on unnamed-novel-in-progress…

Talking of the novel being unnamed, perhaps you could help me come up with a decent name? It doesn’t matter whether or not you know the plot, as all I’m interested in is which of the following titles (if any) would prompt you to pick up a book if you saw it on the shelf to check out what the blurb and cover says?:

1) Inspired by  (this has been the working title)

2) Mansfield, Munch and Misadventure

3) Mansfield and Munch

4) Munch

5) Accidental crime

6) Accidental crimes

7) Incidental crimes

8) Accidental theft

9) Attempted murder and accidental theft

10) A novel by Sam

If number 10 is the best one, then we might as well give up now…

Trust me, at least one paragraph of the novel is better than the quality of those titles. Perhaps even one page. But, really, is there any mileage in any of those or should I try again? I genuinely would appreciate your feedback on this if you’re able to give it, so why not add a quick comment under the blog to let me know?

The titles list does disappoint me a little but I’m preparing to teach a novel called ‘The Road’ next year and that won the Pulitzer Prize, so if you can succeed with as bland a title as that then perhaps I’m not so far off?

Mowtown Junk

I sit here in my office (by ‘office’, I mean there’s a cheap table from Ikea and a dining-chair doubling up as a work-chair) overlooking the bins that have still yet to be collected by Southampton’s embittered bin-men. To be fair, you’d never know that they hadn’t been collected, as the lids on our bins are still closing, unlike the vast majority of those gleefully spilling over into paths, roads, patches of grass and other highlights of the urban landscape around the rest of the city. 1-0 Sam.

Clearly there’s something we’re getting wrong here. Why are we not making enough rubbish? What are we not buying that we should be buying? Or are we just really good at the whole squidging-it-down-to-get-it-as-flat-as-possible game? I’m not sure but there’s something slightly satisfying (only ‘slightly’ – I’m not that easily pleased) at knowing that the strike is having precious little impact on my life. It’s almost like I’m single-handedly (joint-handedly, if you include my wife) sabotaging the union’s months of hard work. In fact, given that I too face the choice of striking on Thursday along with thousands of other teachers, there’s a lot of scope here for me to scupper the grand plans for political revolution. Well, you’ve got to have aims in life.

Talking of aims…mowing. I have a new aim in life – to never mow a lawn again. Unfortunately, if I decide to update this blog around about this time next week I am pretty likely to be confessing that I have lacked the conviction needed to say no to short grass and will rather be recounting a glorious summer’s afternoon spent trimming the same green patch of delightfulness that so enraptured me this Sunday. We could have gone to the beach – my wife even suggested it, so it was a genuine possibility – or we could have drank cocktails in the back garden while watching the cat chase flies and narrowly avoid skidding into the pond. This world provides us with so many things we could do, so many things that appeal to us, that get our hearts racing and our minds active. I could have even written a blog entry or got back on with that novel I mention from time to time on here. But, no. Grass had to grow, didn’t it? It just had to keep growing – independent, spiteful little thing that it is – and I had to take out my frustration at another Vettel victory in the Formula One (represented here by the fricative alliteration, in case you hadn’t noticed…) by strimming, mowing, strimming, mowing, strimming, mowing (sometimes not even in that order) until the lawn finally resembled the flatness and levelness (real word?) of our bin lids.

Mowing reminds us that much of life is very repetitive, there are things that we simply cannot control and that we just have to accept, however irritating they are. (Note: this is where the blog is veering dangerously towards an insightful point. Feel free to leave now if you only popped by for the ‘humour’ and alliteration.)

It’s the same with cleaning, eating, tidying, drinking, filling bins, dusting, stroking cats, and many other life activities that just keep going round in unbreakable cycles. I mean, we can put a lot of effort into making a lasagne for lunch but we’re just going to have to eat again a few hours later. All that hard work and yet it hasn’t really solved anything. In fact, what it’s probably done is also add to the cleaning that needs to be done and contributed to the ever-growing pile filling up the bin.

So, what’s the plan? We tried to conquer rain (see a few blogs ago, if that means nothing to you) and that doesn’t seem to have worked, even if the weather has been a little better recently, so I’m not sure we’re going to have much luck tackling hunger, thirst and an in-built desire for cleanliness and order.

Anyway, I’m off to do the washing up, tidy the kitchen, sort the paperwork and make sure the cat gets fed…

Sale of the Century

 

Yesterday was a big day in the life and times of Sam Lenton and so it seems only fitting to mention it in my blog. As you can see from the picture above, the DVD of my Christmas play, Who’s the Baby?, officially went on sale – by ‘officially’ I mean there was a table and a notice – and, as you can also see from the picture, copies were literally flying off the shelves…

OK, that’s not entirely accurate. They weren’t even on a shelf for starters, but at least they were out there and, if someone took a great dislike to them, then perhaps they were flying (just in a slightly more aggressive sense than would be ideal)?

It will also be abundantly clear to you that this is a big money business – I mean, sell enough of these and I can surely kiss teaching goodbye, can’t I? Two pounds isn’t exactly a price you’d see advocated on The Apprentice as a particularly positive marketing strategy but if I can cover the costs of production and still have enough left over to buy a Wispa then I’ll be a happy chappy. *Shudders at having written the phrase ‘happy chappy’*

On Saturday evening we hosted a gathering of the actors from the play (plus a special guest from my recent involvement in the Mark Drama) and enjoyed a viewing of the play, so I can vouch that it is at least watchable. Avatar it is not, but then again I don’t tend to think of the Nativity characters being blue anyway, so I’m probably not missing out on anything there. Nor is it in 3D, although the live version was. And as for bonus features, well, there’s a spelling mistake in the credits. See if you can spot it…

I say that, assuming that my loyal readers might somehow become my loyal watchers and, if possible, I would like to be able to make the DVD available for those of you who aren’t able to visit the one table from which copies are being sold (which, let’s be honest, is probably most people in the world – it’s a pretty small table…). I’ve tried to set it up as an item to purchase using a PayPal account and so I think the link below should give you the opportunity to buy it. The total cost comes out as £3.50, as I’ve added postage cost for those I’d need to send it to, but if you are likely to actually see me in person then it may well make a lot more sense to avoid all this unnecessary complexity and just hand over a couple of coins (preferably pound coins) next time you see me. Here’s the link: http://tinyurl.com/6ch7zyy

It’s only fair to tell you that I haven’t managed to test whether this definitely works or not and I’m not sure whether it will give you the opportunity to type in a delivery address, so if there are any issues then let me know and we can always sort it via email.

There is, of course, no requirement to buy this thing just because you read my blog and you’re more than welcome to tut and sigh as much as you like in response to my attempts at a bit of self-marketing. On the other hand, if you would like me to write a blog celebrating your existence and everything you stand for, then perhaps you’d like to buy multiple copies?

In other news, does anyone know of any good kettles? Preferably ones that don’t leak.

If it Rains

What is it with rain? Who does it think it is, being all wet and unpredictable? We never asked for it. We weren’t bored of the sun. Really. It was actually quite nice. And blue was always my favourite colour, as far as the sky goes. Not keen on this murky off-white, off-grey, off-blue amalgamation that it seems so fond of lately. Someone really needs to have a word.

In case you are living in one of England’s ‘drought’ areas, as reported on the news, and are developing an ever-growing sense of understanding of what it must be like to live in the Sahara, here is a picture of rain:

Note how the person in the picture battles heroically by clutching a flimsy frame of whatever material umbrellas are made out of. We live in an age of IPads and smoothie-makers and yet this is still the best we can come up with. Surely the point of technology is to offer solutions to on-going problems or inconveniences so that our lives are made as easy and comfortable as possible? I’m no historian but I’m pretty sure it’s rained for a number of years now and so you’d have thought that a solution would have been around the corner for some time.

As with so many things in life, perhaps Mark Watson has the answer? You see, in his show on Tuesday – it was great, by the way, as expected – he insisted that more people needed to boldly say ‘No!’ to the things in life that disgust and disappoint us (such as someone spitting in the street, to use his example). Apparently, it’s been very effective since he developed the courage to stop the spittle in its tracks, and so perhaps the next time it rains we should all look up to the sky and tell the clouds that we just aren’t having it? I mean, maybe no-one’s ever told them? Maybe they’ve gone about their business all these years thinking that we’re loving it down here?

Well, it’s time it stopped. If this blog achieves nothing else, then perhaps it can achieve the end of rain? Who knows, if we’re successful, perhaps we could tackle hail next year?

Return of the Ma[r]k

 

  OK, time for a bit of idol-worship to liven up a Tuesday afternoon.

This evening, my wife and I have the pleasure of returning to see Mr Mark Watson in Fareham, barely 6 months after his triumphant gig in Southampton. I know, it’s almost like we’re stalking him…

Long-term readers of the blog (or those who have decided to catch up on the archive) will know that I began this blog writing process with a bit of shameless Watson-worship, pointing out that my work was unlikely to emulate the 10-year daily blog challenge that Mark set himself over a year ago (link here). The fact that I have produced 24 blog entries in just under a year would suggest that even a weekly blog challenge is beyond me, so once I again I am taking my metaphorical hat off to Mark for maintaining his contributions.

At the Southampton gig, I’m afraid I did do one of those ridiculous fan things of standing in a long queue waiting to say some gushing comment that would no doubt come out as ‘I like your shoes’ or something equally pointless, while clutching a copy of Mark’s latest novel ('Eleven') which I had rescued from the boot of my car just in time. The conversation went a little like this:

Sam’s wife: He’s your biggest fan. He wants to be like you. (Sam shakes his head in an embarrassed fashion and tries to look cool)

Mark: Oh – well – I’ve already got a biggest fan. My mum.

Sam: That’s OK. I couldn’t beat your mum. (Sam shakes his head eagerly, confirming to Mark that no, there is absolutely no way he would beat his mum. Mark nervously giggles and nods back.)

For some strange reason, we didn’t become instant friends, nor was I invited to join him on stage at all future gigs. In fact, if I recall, I didn’t even get a book deal out of it.

Saying that, nothing I’ve done recently (or in the past) seems to be getting me a book deal, so a change of strategy/ability is definitely needed…

I do hope I don’t say/do anything stupid tonight. On the plus side, if I do then it will make for a more interesting blog tomorrow.

(Note – in case you are very concerned about me, I’m going to reduce the term ‘idol-worship’ down to ‘admiration’.)

(Second note – who’s my biggest fan? Any volunteers?)

(Third note – Mark, on the off-chance that you’ve read this, I apologise profusely.)

Name above all names

Having enjoyed (sorry, that should read ‘endured’) a walk home in the rain listening to the album from which this blog gets it name, it seemed only logical that I make 2 points:

1) I finish work quite early on a Wednesday – this is a good thing.

2) How important are names? I mean, really, how much difference do they make?

OK, I admit number 2 is more of a question (technically, 2 questions) than a point but, as the rain reminded me that it was pretty pointless carrying a broken umbrella in your bag, I found myself dwelling on names and wondering just how significant it is what something is called.

Take the new Meat Loaf album, ‘Hang Cool Teddy Bear’. £1 in Sainsbury’s at the weekend – wow – and my current favourite album with the word ‘teddy’ in the title. Just how important is that title to the success of the album? Regardless of your opinion on whether it is hideous or heroic (there are no other options, by the way), surely we must all agree that it’s a mark of intent? You don’t name an album like that if you want people to ignore you. At least, I’m assuming you don’t, having never released an album…

Film titles can say a lot about what you can expect from the the next two or three hours of your life. Remember the Kevin Costner film, ‘The Postman’? (If you don’t, by the way, please don’t get it out on DVD but just do a quick Wikipedia visit. Please. I can’t be held responsible for your actions if you do actually put yourself through that experience.) A simple title, no confusion there – this is about a postman, I’ve got it. It’ll be about more than that though, won’t it? It won’t just be three hours of a man walking across a desert to post a letter will it? Will it?

And then there was ‘Big Fish’, which sounded like the film angling fans have been craving for decades but was actually one of the most delightfully diverse and engaging films of the year (2003). A poor title but a brilliant film. So, what do we make of that? Did the title make any difference to the experience?

What about musicians? Would Bob Dylan have been successful as Robert Zimmerman? And what, exactly, was so wrong with ‘Reginald Dwight’ that ‘Elton John’ was brought in? What did the parents say, I wonder?

It’s amazing how often names just seem ‘right’ for the person and the role they play. Take footballers – Ronaldo, Rooney and Messi all sound like impressive players, but how far up the footballing ladder can Snodgrass and Heckingbotham ever hope to get? Credit to them for giving it a go but, really, I can’t see Heckingbotham becoming a household name (apart from in his own household, of course).

And so we come to my name (Sam Lenton, in case you haven’t been paying attention). Is that the name of a writer? Would people buy a novel by ‘Sam Lenton’ or see a play by ‘Sam Lenton’? Is it more of a novelist’s or a playwright’s name? Or would Samuel Lenton be better? How about Samuel J Lenton or SJ Lenton? Or shall we just go the whole hog and be called Tracy Barker or something like that?

In the Bible, names were often very significant and there are occasions where God tells people what to call their child in order to convey a particular message or represent something (Hosea being asked to call his son ‘Lo-amni’, meaning ‘not-my-people’ would be a good, albeit unfortunate, example). There don’t seem to be many people given names that mean ‘great footballer’ or ‘future Oscar winner for best original screenplay’ though, so perhaps this is why people are moving away from giving their children Biblical names and are now plumping for all sorts of objects, places, emotions and other random amalgamations. Well, why not? Perhaps my first child (no, this is not an announcement of any forthcoming pregnancy) should be called ‘Barbafta’ from the Greek meaning ‘son of a BAFTA winner’? We could. It might make the papers. I’m sure bullying will be extinct by the time he makes it to school anyway…

Picture of you

A quick bonus blog today to test out Windows Live Writer, which I only discovered yesterday, and so if the shortness and dullness of this blog disappoints you, check out the others – there’s some cracking references to cats in most of them.

Apparently, this program allows me to insert pictures, so here goes…

It’s a wigeon! Photographic evidence that I wasn’t making things up yesterday. So there you go – looks nothing like a pigeon. The word ‘duck’ springs to mind.

And, as if the wigeon wasn’t enough, here’s a picture of the DVD case of my Christmas play:

This is actually what I’ve spent the vast majority of my time doing in the last couple of days, as I continued my slide down the geek league table by failing to figure out how to copy a DVD and make a slip-case for an embarrassingly long period of time.

And so, yes, the DVD is finally available and ready to knock Black Swan off its perch as the nation’s most wanted film. (Fill in your own definition of ‘nation’ here: _______________ )

So, has this blog worked? Do I continue using WLW for future entries? For answers to these and other such pressing questions of our time, tune in again soon.

Anyone gone on the Marmite website yet?

Overdue

I'd like to be able to tell you I've had a hectic last week that hasn't left me with a single second to type a blog but anyone who's been watching me the last few days - shame on you if you have, by the way - will know that I have in fact had precious little to do and so this latest entry is decidedly overdue and, from the looks of the first sentence, decidedly uninspiring.
I'll tell you one thing that is inspiring though - the internet. Anyone checked it out lately? Lots of amazing stuff on there. You'd have thought it would have been publicised more...
I really can't imagine what it must have been like to have lived in a time when you actually needed to know things and, if you weren't in possession of the relevant knowledge, you would then need to speak to real people or open up a book to find out the crucial nugget of information. Take yesterday's example - I wanted one of the characters in my play to make a comment about how he would run away from a fight when they were retired by zooming away on his mobility scooter. Could I remember the words 'mobility scooter'? No (you probably guessed that). And so, like any good writer who ensures his research is thorough and professional, I googled 'electric buggy old people drive' and, hey presto, within seconds I'd gone from awkward wordy reference to accurate vehicle. Huzzah! And this was only moments after discovering that there was a bird called a 'wigeon'. Trust me, that was an important find.
And then there was the Marmite website. Check it out.
On the news front, the redrafting of my play is coming along nicely, so expect to hear lots more about that in the near future. In other news, Sepp Blatter has become FIFA president again - probably not entirely fairly - and a couple called Gay and Alan came 3rd in last night's Britain's Got Talent semi-final after a stirring performance with the hand bells.
Oh, and I've just spent 4 days saying things like 'Jesus, we have a question' in a terrifyingly accusatory tone and screaming 'crucify him' and 'kill this man' into the face of someone who is not only about a foot taller than me but also has a much finer beard than I could ever muster. Going to www.themarkdrama.com may help you understand that last sentence better if you haven't been following my movements that closely recently. For a man who once famously said 'I don't act' ('famously' being a slight exaggeration), I seem to have been very bad at keeping my word, what with this being the second play in the space of 6 months. Before you know it, I'll be donning tights and make-up and saying things like 'it's behind you'...
For now, this blog must be behind me and I must plough on with scene four. Spoiler: a pizza man delivers an empty pizza box. He's not made out of pizza, if you're thinking this is all becoming quite Sci-Fi (does anyone else remember the monster made out of curry from Red Dwarf season four, by the way?), but he's certainly quite cheesy.
Note to self: don't try and include that joke in your play. It wasn't funny.

Five months

Good news! We have five months to live. Well, 4 months and 28 days to be accurate. The 21st October. Rapture Day. The sequel.
Apparently.
It dawned on me that we never celebrated our existence in yesterday's blog and so I apologise if you're feeling as though I'm not coming across as sufficiently pleased that we are all alive and well. I am...honestly. And now, it seems, we need to celebrate more than ever, as Harold Camping has informed us that we now have until October 21st before we have to go through all this unnecessary stress again. Next time I promise I'll be very excitable at our survival of Potential Rapture Number Two - perhaps someone could even bake a cake, send me a picture of said cake and then sit back and watch the praise roll in as blog readers around the world marvel at our celebratory cake? In fact, all of you can bake your own cake if you wish so that you can actually eat something. So many options.
This is just a short blog this evening but, then again, I'm a short person, so what can you expect?
Enjoy your evening and make the most of every day between now and October.
You never know...

Do it all over again

There will only be one draft of this blog entry but, if we were really to push the boat out and try and make this the world's leading blog (anyone know what that is, by the way?), then a second, third or fourth draft would be essential. Just think of the changes that could be made, the humour that could be added to this otherwise dull piece of writing, the life-changing words I could impart to my worldwide audience. If only.
I've never been a fan of redrafting. In fact, the three plays I have had put on have all been first drafts (with minor tweaks), so I've naturally assumed this rather stubborn (some would call it arrogant) position that insists that everything will go well the first time around. Sure, I would be told by countless people that it was essential to redraft your work and I would even nod along whilst Stephen King wrote of locking away his manuscript for a few months before coming back to it afresh in his brilliant book 'On Writing', agreeing that, yes, for writers in general this was exactly the right advice. However, it wasn't until I did just that and returned to a couple of old plays of mine that hadn't really gone anywhere that I realised just how badly wrong I had got things. Let's just say that if the plays weren't written by me I would probably have dismissed them out of hand within 2 minutes, so poor was the dialogue. By no means am I currently producing world-beating scripts to compare them against but I would like to think that I'm getting a little bit better and in just 20 minutes of reworking the opening of one of the plays I'm already seeing a big improvement.
You can consider me duly humbled...

Now for a bit of cat-beating (which, to be honest, is the closest I'll ever get to world-beating) - 7 things you can do to a cat while they sleep:

1) Leave them be - why would you do anything to torment such poor defenceless creatures?
2) Stroke their fur the 'wrong' way.
3) Wrap their tail round until it is by their mouth - your very own cat-version of the Ouroboros.
4) Tell them the story of how they were adopted.
5) Move their food, sparking mass confusion when they awake.
6) Discover how many magnetic items you can hang from their collar at the same time.
7) Read them the story of 'The Black Cat' by Edgar Allan Poe.

I look forward to taking out a Super-injunction to cover up any forthcoming brush with the RSPCA. Don't worry Twitter users, I promise not to sue you.

Take me away

OK, so I acknowledge that it's not particularly inventive/cool, etc. of me to blog about something as obvious as 'the end of the world' - I mean, come on, we're all sick of talking about that, aren't we? - but I hope you'll permit me to indulge myself a little after a random trawl through the front page of the BBC News website provided me with the startling revelation that tonight might in fact be my last on this earth. *gasp*
Apparently, at 6pm tomorrow evening (or, this evening, yesterday evening, or a few days ago, depending on when you're reading this blog), the Rapture will finally come and the world as we know it will all be over. Big news. So big, in fact, that it ranked number 2 on the 'most shared' stories chart, only topped by the huge story that a German firm held an orgy for their most successful salesmen. (I'd like to take this opportunity to say hello to all my German readers...)
If none of this is making any sense so far and, to be honest, I can understand why it might not, then you can read more here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-13468131
Do come back here after reading that article though - I'd hate you to miss out on whatever the remaining lines may bring.
Whatever your thoughts on the possibility of a Rapture, let alone one tomorrow evening, surely some of you must join me in offering more than a little giggle in the direction of the 250 people who have paid £83 to the 'Eternal Earth-bound Pets' business that is offering to look after your pet once you have been swept away. No offence to Maisie, or any other cats out there, but I would like to think that, should I be caught up into Heaven just as I'm settling down to watch Britain's Got Talent tomorrow evening, the joy of going to be with God would overshadow any feelings of sadness I might feel as it dawns on me that no-one will be there to put out the brekkies tonight.
It is, of course, all too easy to be incredibly cynical about these things. The very fact that Jesus declares that only God the Father knows when the day shall be would suggest rather strongly that Harold Camping et al are unlikely to be right when they confidently declare that they know when everything will happen. However, there is one important reminder that comes out of all this and that is that we don't know when Jesus will return and it's all too easy to act as if he never will and to forget that he instructed us to be alert and ready, living each day as if he is coming back that evening.
Right, I'm off to listen to 'Last night on Earth' by U2...

Time is on my side

Having recently discovered Radio 4 extra, you'll be pleased to know that the typing of this blog is being accompanied by the bizarrely titled, 'Lenin of the Rovers', which is apparently about one man's struggle to establish Britain's first communist football team. I know, I'm thinking the same as you - why didn't I come up with that first? And, why couldn't it have been Britain's first communist bowls club? Missed opportunity.
I'm pleased to have the time to write this blog today - eager viewers will notice it's been a few days since I last posted - and, in general, I'm pleased that time has suddenly become a commodity I've been able to enjoy now that work has eased off a bit.
Writing update: in the last week I've written a 10 minute radio play, which is a parody of The History Boys (well, the opening scene anyway), and I fully intend to abuse the fact that I work at a college with a radio station to get the play put on before the end of term. If only I worked at a college with a Hollywood studio...
Yesterday witnessed the production of another monologue but quite a different one from usual. The fact that I insisted I performed it the moment my wife returned home from work would suggest that I was perhaps a little too proud of my efforts! My acting skills are coming along nicely though.
The problem, which this blog suitably represents, is that anytime spent blogging means the other projects aren't getting done, but any time spent on the other projects means the blog isn't being updated. It's this type of agonising situation that makes watching an overweight boy riding a skateboard on the pavement outside a more compelling option than committing to what might be the wrong writing choice. It's easy to see why YouTube has become so popular...
I don't think I'll post a link to this blog entry on Twitter or Facebook today. This'll be one for the loyal readers, those who check back on the off-chance something has happened. Well, you'll be pleased to see that it has! But perhaps less pleased to see what it is that has happened. I should really get back on and write a blog about 7 things you can do to a cat while it sleeps, or something like that.
The kitchen timer has just finished counting down. Time is no longer on my side.

Shorty

'Not only am I the youngest out of all of you, I'm the shortest too.'
So went Edward 'roll-with-the-punches' Hunter's defense of his poor performance in the opening episode of last night's new series of The Apprentice. As far as he was concerned, we needed to overlook the fact that he had no plan and didn't quite grasp the idea that juicing 1400 oranges by hand might take slightly longer than an hour, and focus on the real issue - height. How could anyone so short be expected to get these sorts of things right, after all? And, as if to compound things further, the universe had only gone and made him young as well. Young and short. Every man's nightmare.
It is a nightmare I struggle through every day and it staggers me how little people give me credit for pulling through, despite clocking well under 6 foot. Life isn't easy for those of us down here. There are things we've never seen, moments we've never experienced, and yet we are expected to do just the same job as the rest of you. Incredible.
I'm sure you won't be too disappointed to discover that Edward discovered he wasn't, in fact, too young or short to be fired and he soon found himself skulking out of the boardroom wondering why he hadn't pulled out the 'and I haven't even got around to shaving this morning' card as well. Clearly being young and short simply wasn't enough.
Sorry for the brevity of this post - I'm young and short.

All around the world

It probably shouldn't have taken me as many months as it has but I have finally stumbled across the 'Stats' tab on my own blog page when fiddling around with the layout earlier, but it seems that not only can I discover how many times the page has been viewed (something I've long agonised over, as long-term readers will know) but I can also see how people got here, where in the world they are reading it and which web browser they used to read it ('Safari' is currently number one - thank you Apple users!).
Oh dear. This puts the pressure on. People in Denmark - well, one person in Denmark - need this blog. Or, at least, did on one occasion at one time in the past few months. Wow. Hope it helped.
And, as if Denmark wasn't exciting enough, Indonesia seems to be keen, Switzerland is chipping in with the odd participant and the United States are showing an interest. Suddenly I feel a lot of pressure to find culturally-relevant topics to write on, so look out for a future blog about eating Lindt chocolate after a quick game of badminton against Bon Jovi...
Discovering the visitor counter does of course confirm that any plans I have to spend a weekend repeatedly pressing F5 to watch the numbers rack up would be worth putting into action.
This was a short blog just to say that I am very grateful to have discovered that people do actually come here and read this. If you are here for the first time, welcome/willkommen/bienvenue, etc. Do check out the 'archive'. Love that word - sounds like I have an underground library. If I'm ever rich, I will have an underground library. And an overground library - just in case I don't fancy the stairs. In fact, if I'm rich I'll install a lift. I might need to move first. Not enough room in this house.
That was an example of a series of random thoughts, poorly structured into short statements. For many more such exciting ventures into the world of creative expression, join me again soon.
I'm off to refresh this page ten times before posting the link to this blog...

Turning Tables

It's been an odd week. True, it's been slightly longer than a week since the last blog entry, so if you just assume that those other weeks could be filed under 'general time passing', then we can all get on with focusing on this week. Agreed? Excellent.
Not only did we watch a prince (not the artist formally known as...) get married and drive off, like any normal couple (thanks BBC) in an Aston Martin, while thousands celebrated by waving flags in the streets, barely 48 hours later and we were watching another crowd of flag-waving enthusiasts rejoicing in the death of a man with a surprisingly-long beard - not that we got to see the beard (or any other body parts) again after all these years, mind, as we were informed that, after much deliberation, gruesome pictures of Bin Laden's corpse would remain locked away, ready for a Wikileaks/flickr scandal in 2015.
And, as if that wasn't enough, a bizarre day of Championship football on Monday left Norwich fans up and down the country wondering just how their team had secured a second promotion in two seasons. As someone on Twitter wrote, 'if Carlsberg did bank holiday weekends...'
Besides these 3 events of global significance, the past few days have also brought an unexpected moment of jealousy/admiration, as one of my good friends from university posted a link to his first published book on amazon. I'll repeat the act here: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Wendy-Whale-Alexander-Williams/dp/0946206716/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1304624123&sr=8-1
And to think, I couldn't even get around to updating my blog...
Saying that, here I am! And here I will be too, on a tip sheet coming to a website/table at a conference near you. Confused? Excellent. The short summary is that my fame as a scriptwriter has spread sufficiently to lead me to be asked by ACW to provide a tip sheet for other aspiring Christian scriptwriters. I'm not on Amazon yet, but it's an honour to be asked anyway.
Back to the week's news - my cat has begun sleeping on her expensive bed again (£10 is expensive in my book), which is a great relief as the alternative was putting a door back on its hinges, and anyone who witnessed the great 'shelf-collapsing' and 'screws-back-to-front' incidents of my previous DIY efforts will be glad to hear that it doesn't sound as if there'll be any need for any door-disasters. Saying that, I did fix a mower recently. I broke it first, though. I guess I'm even.
Anyway, I should probably get back on with that scriptwriting I'm so famed for and see if I can finish off my Pentecost play. Spoiler alert: the Holy Spirit appears.
Thanks for being patient as the blog remained in stasis for a couple of months. Hope it didn't ruin your life too much visiting a website every day to have your hopes so consistently dashed. I will do my best not to dash hopes in the future.
We should all do less dashing.
Here endeth today's lesson.

The Gift

I finally reach my favourite number on Tuesday! I have no idea why but, whenever asked, I tend to plump for 27. 26 isn't even in my top 10, but 27 - now that's a number.
So, what exactly is going to happen in year 27 of the life of Sam Lenton? Publication? Promotion? Paternity? Something that doesn't begin with 'P'?
Well, to start with I shall receive presents and, as is the pattern nowadays, I will know exactly what they are as I have not only added them to my Amazon wish list but have giggled with glee as they disappear from said list. With only 3 likely providers of such gifts, it's not even that difficult to narrow down who might have purchased what.
(Side note - current 'P-word' count in this blog stands at 8)
What is perhaps a little depressing is that I've just spent 20 or 30 minutes (we all know it's nearer 30, but let's give me a shot at some dignity anyway) trawling through Amazon in the look out for something I might like my brother to buy me. It's such a strange experience assessing whether buying a particular item would be a worthwhile use of someone else's money or not.
So, since I should really be taking this time to write my play rather than procrastinate by pondering presents on a personal blog, I think I should probably bless you all with a briefer than usual contribution.
Preparing for 27 with ever-increasing anticipation...

(Final 'P' count : 16. An OK number but barely in the same league as 27.)

Cancel the exhibition

So, it turns out there'll be no Oscar (or Olivier Award, for that matter) after all. At least, not next year, anyway.
Today I received an email to add to the file marked 'rejection letters/emails to share with the public on book-signing tours' regarding the play I sent in to a local theatre. To be honest, things weren't looking promising when my one-line plot summary in a previous email led the recipient to declare that it didn't sound like a play they'd be interested in, and so I should probably be grateful that it even got looked at.
The criticism was odd, though: 'I would suggest that you need to work much harder at your dialogue'. Hmm. Three thoughts...
1) Is this actually suggesting the plot was OK? If so, that's a first for me, so in a peculiar way this was in fact a stunningly positive piece of feedback.
2) Correct me if I'm wrong, but surely the entire play (stage directions aside) is dialogue? Does this mean that I need to work much harder on everything?
3) What really confuses me is this 'work much harder' idea - is the suggestion that what was lacking above all was effort and hard graft? There's something scarily school-report-like in the phrase (not that I would ever have received such a comment mind you...) and yet I kind of like the idea that there is little difference between me and all the other great writers in history apart from our work ethic. Simple solution: work harder and we'll be away. If only I'd thought of putting effort in earlier...
In happier news, I'm very much enjoying rediscovering music I've cruelly ignored for quite a few months, if not years, and am currently lapping up 'Wonderland' by The Charlatans, whilst I've been steadily working my way through 4 Spiritualized albums. Simple conclusion: I am already at that age where I dismiss all new music and cherish the 'golden era of my youth', or whatever it was Dad used to say.
Well, I'm off to write my latest play. You know what, I'm going to try and work hard on this one. Particularly on the dialogue. Forget stage directions - they're clearly sorted - and focus on dialogue. What could be easier?
By the way, the play is a retelling of the Pentecost story. Any suggestions for a title would be gratefully received. I keep wanting to do something that alliterates and so I've been trawling through 'P' words but that may not be a particularly good idea, so any other thoughts are welcome.

Just lookin'

Apparently, Anthony Trollope used to get up and write for a few hours before going to work, starting at exactly the same time every morning and finishing at the exactly the same time a few hours later (let's go for 3 but feel free to wikipedia it...), regardless of whether he was in the middle of a sentence or not! It was this level of dedication that led to him being one of the most successful and prolific writers of all time (although, not one that I've read - take that, Trollope!) and forever providing an anecdote that puts the rest of us to shame.
I have just been sat at the laptop for about an hour and have written 267 words of my novel but I have checked Hotmail, Facebook and Twitter about 38 times during this hour, somehow imagining that the world outside my office is changing at such a rapid pace that if I don't refresh the page every minute or so then I will miss out on something big. In fact, just now I have learned on Twitter from Darren Huckerby that he has forgotten his boots - key information, I am sure you will agree, and something that begs numerous questions that are far more important to consider than what the next line of my novel's going to be. But, mock it as I do - yes, that was sort of mockery I guess - you could argue that this is the most incredible gold-mine of creative potential. In fact, I think I can feel a screenplay about an ex-footballer who forgets his boots and somehow goes on to save the world from an evil tortoise bubbling up inside me as I type.
Can you imagine how Trollope, Dickens or Austen - or Shakespeare for that matter - would have coped in a world of Twitter and Facebook? One click on Facebook has just told me that a friend enjoys blessing people with cake. How could the great writers of yesteryear have resisted the lure of such revelations? I'm sure Austen would have happily paused mid-sentence if there was a chance to check whether someone 'liked' her status update that she was 'Looking forward to the dance'.
While we're on the subject, I would have liked to have seen DH Lawrence write a blog. I imagine he would have been very good at it and I would have liked the opportunity to spend hours drafting a comment that I felt was suitable to add to the 237 others responding to his contribution.
Hmm. I have no other thoughts today.
News update: Maisie lives!
But you probably expected that, so there are no great shocks today.

Beautiful News

So...blogging. Mmm. Yes. Well. Perhaps not the regular activity I might have imagined it to be but bizarrely enticing nonetheless, and what better way could there be to mark my return than by providing a bit of a news update? Think Sky News and then imagine something quite different - this will be a little like that...

I sat next to a man on Saturday who observed me ticking off the parts of the day's schedule (I was at a writers' conference) and took the next logical step of asking me if I were someone who liked lists. The glow in his eye made it clear that anything other than 'yes' would prove a crushing disappointment and so, since it is all too easy to be a crushing disappointment to those I meet, I admitted that, yes, I indeed was a fellow list-lover (and alliteration fan for that matter) and that bullet-points were my particular weapon of choice. It is, therefore, perhaps not that surprising that the news update is going to come in the form of a list, although - just to be slightly daring - I'm going to go for numbers rather than bullets. Let's call it a mark of respect for all those engaged in fighting in the Middle East.

Here goes...

1) Success! Yes - actual success. In December, my Christmas Play appeared on stage in Above Bar Church. Startling things happened. I acted. I drank a lot of water backstage. I threw a fez into the air at the end in true graduation-style flourish. People clapped.
Key things I learned (here come the bullets):

• Burger King does a remarkably nice burger (double Aberdeen Angus)
• People will applaud jokes if you let your actors perform them differently to how you'd imagined.
• Cameras make people laugh - particularly disposable ones.
• I can successfully catch a pregnant lady falling backwards.
• Fezzes should not be tossed into the air at the end of a play

2) Blind optimism! Potential, but unlikely, success. Yesterday, I sent off the play that I began writing at university (6 years ago) to the local theatre, expecting that not only will it be a huge hit in Southampton but before the year is out we will no doubt be talking about national tours, film versions and potential Oscars (I'm assuming I'll be writing the screenplay for the film version...). On the other hand, it is minutely possible that I'll receive a 'you have no idea how to write and you've just wasted an hour of my life' email any minute now...

3) Encouragement! I have recently joined the Association of Christian Writers (ACW) and attended a conference on Saturday - yes, the one with the fellow list-lover! - which I found both encouraging and challenging. Simple conclusion: I wish I did this full-time. Additional conclusion: I need to be given an enormous cheque through the post (as in amount of money, the size of the cheque itself is irrelevant) so that I can ditch the day-job and spend hours at the laptop.

4) Competition time! It may well cost me £5 (or, to put it another way, the cost of a Dylan album in Fopp) but I'm actually going to enter a short-story competition for the first time. That's what the ACW does to you - first you become a member and before you know it you're splashing the cash to get your work out there. On the plus side, if I win (and it is an earth-shatteringly-large 'if') then I would more than recover the fiver, which, as I am sure you will feel comforted to hear, has already led to a number of day-dreams in which I have spent my future winnings in a wife-defying manner of technical indulgence (i.e. a new computer monitor).

5) Days off! Incredibly, my work has a bursary that pays for people to pursue worthy interests, such as curing cancer in your spare time or putting together a proposal to get us all out of this financial mess we find ourselves in, and I've somehow gone and secured it for myself by suggesting that I spent a week at home completing my novel. I'm imagining they'll be hankering after a dedication to the college being plastered across the opening pages if it's published - hey, I'll happily call the novel 'Itchen College is great' if someone actually wants to publish this thing - but I can't be anything other than thankful really, can I? 

And at 5 we shall stop. 5 is a good number for a list. As is 7, 10 or 12. 

I've decided to try and write where possible and so do check back here if you'd like to see what I'm thinking about the weird things happening around me.

While writing this blog entry I've just watched my cat walk across the road, pause half-way to take a look around her before stopping entirely. Banging on the window did little to make her move and I think I may have actually held her up a little as she simply stood and stared at this crazed over-protective father-figure panicking that a car would crush his little pride and joy any moment now...

In the next blog - the news on whether or not Maisie survived her walk...