That’s what the weathered looking man said to me at the station at 8 o’clock this morning. He had (and likely still has) a little grey goatee beard and fluorescent yellow waistcoat. And a hat. And legs. And, most importantly for the sake of this story, a pile of handouts he was giving to people as they walked onto the platform. Admittedly I had no idea what they were, but
I was trying very hard to think of an interesting way of talking about all the writing I’ve been doing this week, without giving away the fact I’ve not done anything. Oops, there goes that then. Getting away with it two weeks on the trot is a bit of a stretch so I’ll just admit that I’ve been busy with other things. This is how I know I’ve been busy:
I like to have with me most places (except the shower and places like that) pens. Which makes sense, because you never know when you might need a pen (though you often know when you probably will need a pen, so you have one then too. And you usually know when you probably won’t need a pen, which is why most people never take their pencil case into the shower).
In the spirit of greatest hope and respect for such a splendidly brilliant New Year I resolve to approach my writing thusly: I will focus on one project at a time in order to bring them to a state of useful completion. Of course one has to be aware that too much concentration on one thing can give you tunnel vision and even a headache, so the above resolution I
_____________________________________ Pong (12A) 146 mins Clive Owen, Hugh Jackman Dir: BK Sheik The videogame to movie adaptation canon swells a little further this month with the improbable release of a story based on the classic Atari table tennis game. Granted at first glance there seems to be little in that 70s classic that’s as firmly bankable as Lara Croft or even a tetrad, but this aims to be an event