Saturday, 18 August 2012

the missing day


 The missing day was missing  for a very good cause, a crime writer lost in action somewhere south of somewhere north where she thought there was a ferry but there wasn't.  There was  a rumour  she had been  helping Stuart McBride fix his garage roof. He had crash landed on it during one of his nocturnal flights, he being one who casts no shadow in any accent, Aberdonian or not. The angel of the roofing felt  then continued her journey north, escaping the rain in Aberdeen to a  small remote island with a firing range and unreliable ferry service where she messed about with highly explosive devices in a way that would make any Blue Peter presented curl up and die in their sticky back plastic.   Once she had finished with that without killing anybody in reality but had a high body count in fiction, she headed  vaguely south-  back home to the land of whippets and the dropped apostrophe. Further south she headed, in a car  with extra griping wet weather tyres. (She'd been to Aberdeen before).  A slow thought crossed her newly blonde head.  It was quite far, she was tired. She put out an SOS. Well a text.
And just as the Carparthia and the other boat that I can't recall, steamed towards the stricken Titanic, so myself and A N Other -Writer set out into the night to save our friend.
 And take her to the sanctuary of a curry house where we ate saag panner and drank latte into the small hours, waving naan bread in the air as we were witty and urbane.. and talked about folk we don't like.
The conversational chit chat ( gossip) then continued back at the building site of a house with the pit bull  snoring melodically in front of the fire and  the cat licking the salt from Doritos.
There are more than a few ways to hang Doritos for  maximum cat lickage  experience  but much of this depends on the stretch ability of the cat in question. Mine has stretch limo stretch capacity. As Bill Bailey once said on QI, 'the domestic cat - kitty cattius-  is one of the longest mammals on the face of the planet.' It is actually longer than the blue whale. It can stretch to great lengths when in pursuit of high cheese.
We discussed many things into the small hours. The effect of the breakdown of the eurozone on the demand based economy, the  political unrest in Syria, do we recognise anybody on CBB? The rather attractive male crime writer with us talked rather unconvincingly in the third person about a 'friend' who was enjoying the side benefits that Fifty shades of Grey  was having on men who sign up to match dot com.  He reported that his friend was having lots of fun (sex)  with ladies (desperate ) wearing jodhpurs ( from Primark) and whips (do you think that might be an Olympic thing?All that dressage and being posh). I was thinking about writing fifty shades of mince as you know. One friend is thinking about writing the history of Scottish football, 'fifty shades of shite' Then a gay friend is already 'on it darling' not writing it but living it! Fifty shades of gay of course.
And so the evening and part of the next morning passed. hence no blog.
That is my excuse

No names,  no pack drill, no pakora, no indigestion.

No law suit.

Nibbled the Dorito once the cat spat it out.


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