Yesterday was Earth Hour, of course. Our hotel was
participating, and it was a little eerie, when we got back, to see everything
just semi-lit.
We’d been congregating, generally, in Ma’s room.
“Come to ours” we insisted. “Change into your comfy clothes and come round to us in ten.”
“Righto,” said Ma, and went to her room.
“Come to ours” we insisted. “Change into your comfy clothes and come round to us in ten.”
“Righto,” said Ma, and went to her room.
“Right, you,” said d to me. “Do whatever you need to in the
bathroom, get into your onesie and put the kettle on…”
That sounded like a plan. I was…shall we say…straining
somewhat…when the lights went out.
“Wwwwwhat the hell?” I asked. There was a noise of clicking
from outside the bathroom door.
“Either it’s an Earth Hour….thing,” said d, or the fuse has
blown!”
It wasn’t an Earth Hour thing. A row of about five rooms on
our floor were suddenly plunged into darkness and powerlessness.
d went along the perfectly lit corridor to Ma’s room.
“Change of plan,” she explained.
Ending the night on an up note, and one in keeping with my
“author of my destiny” rant of yesterday, I checked my email, and got a
notification last thing last night before padding back to our by-then
re-illuminated room.
d has always…shall we say “proactively encouraged” me to
write Doctor Who stories, on the grounds that she actually believes I can do this writing…thing…and that I’m one
of those UberFans who always critique the TV episodes, so she kind of goes the cheerleadery “Write your own then”
thing that is both challenge and statement of faith.
I’ve always resisted, frankly, due to a paucity of actual
ideas. Then a couple of weeks ago, I saw a contest on Facebook, run by one of
the many fan pages I’m on, saying “Write us your best Doctor Who fan-fiction,
and win a prize”. Figured I’d give it a
go, but work and Jefferson deadlines conspired against me, despite suddenly having an idea for such a story. I ended
up writing 5000 words in two sessions, each of which ran from midnight to
2.30/3AM, getting the story in just hours before the deadline.
Having Other Stuff To Do, I practically forgot about it and
came away for this weekend. The email last night was to say “Oi you…you’ve won.
Hoorah. Where do we send your prize?” So that was a very useful shot in the arm
in terms of putting the effort in and reaping the rewards. The story’s now been
published online to the 11,000 or so Who fans on the page, and has had
pleasingly good reviews. Ahem…mini-wave in celebration of me. Not surprisingly,
ideas for other stories have since been forthcoming.
Today has been one of those pleasingly buggerall days when
you actually get to relax. Another hotel buffet breakfast led on
to…essentially, a great deal of sitting about in the warm, rather than going
out in the windchill of -3 degrees Celsius. As I write this, the journey home
is in its final stages, and we’re on a coach driven by someone who truly
doesn’t know where he’s going. It’s An Adventure, as d would day – and indeed
has said. Home soon-ish, and then the week begins again. Except for me, it
doesn’t – I booked the day off as annual leave, and so am schlepping down to
Cardiff in the morning with a computer and a Starbucks card, to edit the
bejeesus out of my latest client’s work to delivery by the deadline of the 28th.
Tuesday is bloodsticks, possible coronary phonecalls, and a return to long
morning walks and evening biking sessions – no substitutions, no excuses, no
essential fannying about. Destiny, author, yadda yadda yadda – the motivation
remains currently impregnable, for all that, after three days away I look like
I’m about to give birth to twins or triplets. Back to blue pills tonight when I
get home, and hopefully, will be able to birth these buggers come the morning…
And then author,
destiny and so on and etc.
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