As you know, my office is, in fact, a cupboard (too many commas but can't think how to sort it out, sorry). Obvi, it has no heating and has one wall shared with the bloke down the road's garage - so, talk about parky why don't we. I've got that many clothes on, I can't put my arms by my sides. Man Friday suggested putting a duvet over my legs and feet; we tried it, but the cupboard is so small that once I got tucked in, I nearly fell off the bleeding chair trying to get out.
Then, the squeaky cupboard door got so bad it was like Barnabas, Quentin and the Magic Potion. So Man Friday bunged some oil on it and then, bloody typical, it just swings wide open all the time. See, trouble is, I need to keep it slightly ajar cos there is no ventilation and if I shut it, well, I'd be dead in half an hour - what with the lack of air and the gasometer right behind me.
However, if the bloody thing is wide open, it sort of distracts me. So, I come up with a real Heath Robinson: doubled up some string and tied it to door knob, then attached string to pin board with big push pin. Unfortu, Man Friday keeps forgetting, opening the door to talk to me and the sodding push pin comes flying out and pings me in the moosh. Lucky I wear glasses, mate.
Suddenly thought: does everyone know Barnabas and Quentin? Mebbes not. Well, before Anne Rice and Harry Potter there was this writer called Dan Ross and he wrote about a million books about two vampires who lived together (not in that way) and had loads of magicky/vampire/werewolf adventures. Apparently, the books were a spin-off from a tv show (which I never saw but wish I did - mightily). So, although everything is all 'twilighty' at the moment, never to fear. It's sort of a cyclical thing, cos Barnabas and Quentin were really big in the late 60s, 70s and then there was abso nanti till Anne Rice. Thus: give it time! Sorry, having a bit of rant. Do you know, if I never hear about another young boy/girl with unusual powers it'll be too quick for me. I read Barnabas and Quentin when I was mebbes 7 or 8. And don't get me wrong - I love horror films. I love vampires and werewolves and zombies and ghosts. It's rather like Dulce de Leche; I love that too, but I can't eat a whole bleeding pot. It's all too much. I'm supernaturalled-out at the minute. I saw a film the other day (bleeding awful by the way), where one group of vampires described themselves as vegetarians cos they only ate animals and not humans. Give me strength. Vegetarian Vampires? They mights as well be bloody humans. I mean - the whole sodding thing about vampires is that they are not us, and they want to eat us - that's why we're scared of 'em. Come on, what next? Jain zombies?
End of Rant.
Still waiting on book editors. Cor, this waiting malarkey is a killer, I tell you. I look at my emails about 4 times per day! How sad is that. Oh, and what with the waiting stuff, I'm now stuck in the house (still) cos Melvis is after me to be a character witness in his ongoing battle with the council (who are intent on bunging him out on his ear). Thus, as soon as he sees me out of the house (i.e. able to go to his solicitors with him) he'll be like a monkey on me back. Therefore, have come up with the (not very) cunning plan of de-camping to my sister's casa till it all blows over. How do I get meself in these situs.
Oh yes, and it's freezing.
But as me old mum used to say: 'Give over moaning - there's people in the world with no head moan less than you, girl.' Fact.