I could seriously do with a little bit of chill time over the weekend.
I’m heading up to Man’s woo hoo and I’m not coming back till Tuesday morning when I have a meeting first thing in the morning about two thirds of the way home.
This week has just been ridiculously manic and yesterday, which I thought was going to be relatively simple, was the worst.
Started work at 6.30am and finally left just after 8pm. By the time I got home I was so tired all I did was sit and stare at the Olympics on tv without really paying attention (I think I was watching the swimming but I’m not sure).
I didn’t write, I didn’t read, I didn’t take photographs, I literally just sat.
One more day at work then this afternoon I head up the motorway again.
And breathe :)
Man read my poem about eagles yesterday. He said if I had given him that one and a poem by someone else, he would have known that was mine.
This creative writing course keeps going on about writers finding their own voice. Well I just chat. I’ve always done that.
When I was a reporter writing articles, when I was a kid writing diaries, when I was a travel editor writing travel pieces, I have always written as if I am having a conversation with someone. I’m not sure I know how to do anything else.
I think some of our junior reporters at work try too hard to make things complicated when they are writing. But surely the idea is just to make people understand what you are trying to say?
Some need a lesson in English too. Classics we have had recently from reporters include describing a LYNCH gate outside a church (pretty sure they meant Lych), a TOE path along a canal (ummm towpath perhaps?) and a judge saying a defendant had FRAGRANTLY breached a court order (that one really did make me giggle, perhaps he flagrantly breached the order but smelt nice doing it lol).
Mind you, a conversation in my house the other day made me howl with laughter. Gorgeous daughter number two had bought a large jar of jelly bellies and boyfriend of gorgeous daughter number 1 was looking at the flavour list on the back of the jar.
“What’s a cantaloupe,” he said.
“Sounds like an animal to me,” pipes up GD2.
“No sweetheart,” I said, “You’re thinking of ANTELOPE.”
And I was right, she was. We didn’t stop laughing for ages.