Knackered.
The monkey people have to get out their beds very early to go and hit a ball round a field with a stick - into a hole that is so small and far away that you cannot see it. It seems to be a popular pastime with Scottish blokes, as does wearing the funny trousers.... I'm not sure how looking like Rupert the bear on his day off is supposed to help get a ball into a hole but I am not an expert on the subject.
Chris Bonnington would have thought twice at the mountain of paperwork I had to do but there was a lack of clarity about the head so HWMBI decided to go and see what Saltcoats looked like and what the cakes in Saltcoats tasted like.
My totally insane Auntie used to go to Saltcoats every Glasgow fair for about thirty years in a row. I think I drove through it once coming back from Ardrossan library but I don't remember much about it, might have sneezed and missed it.
It is a strange but rather beautful place, it reminded me of the setting of Glister. Not really of this world. The weather was dull, hot and oppressive. People were sitting on the beach, in swimsuits yet the sky was dark and threatening, the clouds over Arran were black but not moving in any particular direction - they looked too heavy to move. There was no wind, yet the arms on the turbines high on the hills were spinning like Simon Rattle on crack cocaine.
They are everywhere on the horizon, a weird vanguard on the skyline, the water in front and Arran lying low in the water like a corpse. Saltcoats feels as though it is under seige. No wonder my Auntie went bonkers.
Saltcoats sea front has pulled itself up by its boot strings. Money has been put to great use. There is a walkway with a talking wall. Locals have been quoted on marble slabs and fixed to the wall as some kind of commentary that is impossible not to read as you walk past. From Hannah aged 8 ' a walk on the beach is best with a dog' to Gilbert aged 80 ' My best memories are standing in line for a pokey hat, listening to the Glaswegian accents.' That was probably my mad auntie he was listening to - she had a voice like the Ailsa Craig foghorn and was about 30 stone. She was very fond of poky hats. And chips. often eaten at the same time.
We found good latte and cake shop but the joy of joy was meeting Ruby and Findlay, two lovely
Leonbergers. Huge animated teddy bears just ambling along the front making sure that all was as it should be. We gave them a wee rummel round the neck and left them to it, they knew what they were about.
The paperwork took three hours. Finished a great book, unpublished but WHAT a book. tarty noir has a new star rising.
caro
Sunday, 19 August 2012
Saturday, 18 August 2012
Day 13 and counting
Had to drag myself to work, latte fuelled.
My friend had survived her night in the monkey den, the strange place where the teenage boys usually live and stay in quarantine. This is because they suffer from a strange affliction called X box. It's a bit like X factor but more tricky to dust.
The blonde crime writer who had sought shelter from the storm slept well in a Hitchcock type of way... wind howling round the turret, the branches of the trees tapping on the windows, the howl of the poltergeist as it is forced to watch yet another episode of Top Gear on Dave.
But she drove off in the early hours on her super sticky tyres, well nourished with... well bugger all as we still don't have a functioning kitchen. The new back door is well impressive though so we stood about and admired that for a bit instead.
Worked hard all day, many patients telling me of their experiences in the Olympic velodrome, all positive. The highlight of it all was Chris Hoy taking his shirt off. I think this might be proof of too much female hormone in the food chain...
Have been treating myself to all Henning Mankell's audio books in the right order to cheer myself up after the Marianas Trench of depression I suffered when I accidently read the last one on holiday. Only a Swede could finish a book like that. I should have seen it coming, the clues were there but I didn't. Always get the urge to call the Pit Bull Jussi after listening to Mankell. I'm on the white lioness at the moment.
Due to monkey activity ( watching war films, eating Cheeky monkey bars, feeding the pitbull pringles to the point of bursting) in all other habitable areas of the house I retreated to the turret with French and Saunders, the last series. Jennifer doing Cher 'This is a collection of Songs and wigs', Dawn doing Catherine Zeta Jones Spartacus Douglas 'I've got shit loads of cash me!' and tried to edit my book.
Too busy laughing.
Early to bed after excitement of the week,
A curry. A latte in Lidl carpark?
It's all too much.
Caro
the missing day
hi,
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.
Caro
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.
Caro
Thursday, 16 August 2012
Day 15
short blog due to builders being annoying.
had a lie in to ..7.00 am.
then went out to look for a solution to the pringle problem.
failed.
got cash out bank for builders
went to asda, got a trolley load
realised had no purse
this happens all the time,
they told me
they were unfazed
found purse in car
went back into shop
got home
taxi parked too close to driveway
street was empty
builders appeared
nearly an incident between builders and taxi driver
then dog thought it might get involved
dog out, builders in
104 emails
more proofs
payment for proofs
couldn't find credit card
it was amongst the ASDA shopping
nearly fell in boot of the car
got head butted by the cat
it was only half past ten
was knackered
worked on novel
cleaned house for superstar writer staying over tomorrow
I am not used to cleaning
So I fell over and hurt myself
Huge bruise appearing on leg
going out with other writer for curry
will talk of death and torture and put eavesdroppers off their tikka masala
hosted writers group
dog gate crashed and eat ginger nuts
slagged off 50 shades of mince again.
writer appeared, went out to get story from car
came back 40 minutes later
writer need to be put on lead
had to have glass of wine in peace
once I closed the door to them
found cat playing with USB stick
and that was my day off
Caro
Wednesday, 15 August 2012
Day 16 and counting
Hi,
Sixteen days to go. Time to get thinking about the wine (sorted really) and the glasses, not sorted at all. Trying to cost up buying glasses in, hiring or using plastic ones. And wine never tastes as good from a plastic glass.
Hotel has been confirmed, numbers firmed up on the speadsheet, coffee and tea numbers guessed at. Still considering how best to do the Pringles and try to avoid that juggling wine, crisp, handbag, not enough hands thing. Bookmarks have been proofed, five other events confirmed and another interview done but can't recall who for. This was all supposed to be going on in the office in peaceful quiet.. then the builders turned up with a new front door. It then was as peaceful as Aleppo.
Builder, who has more or less lived in my house for the last four years, seemed to have lost weight. He normally looks like a hammer thrower. Now he looks like a slightly thinner hammer thrower. On enquiry he said that he was taking part in Strictly Come Dancing in aid of the local hospice. My gp is doing that as well, but he is built like, because he is...a half marathon runner. That is one duel I will pay money to see. Big Daddy taking on Mo Farah in Strictly come Prancing!
The faithful PA and I were driven from our office by the noise and the lack of electricity for the spreadsheet of wonder. So we went in search of muffins and latte, taking solace in Lidl carpark to eat strawberry tarts, sneaking in and out of poundshops to look at disposable table ware. Such is the life of the rich and famous!
The builders were supposed to be looking after the pit bull as there was no front to close obviously. They promised they would but the hairy beastie came down the road to meet us when she heard the car engine. The pitbull had obviously been enjoying some free range terrorisation of local squirrels and continued the war of attrition with the Parsons jack russell down the road. The Parsons russell is the one that looks as though it is on stilts.
Did a biog for John Gordon Sinclair for the killer cookbook, and spent the rest of my time checking proofs, and answering another 45 emails.
The builders eventually left, without giving me a key for the door.
Men!
More tomorrow,
Caro
Sixteen days to go. Time to get thinking about the wine (sorted really) and the glasses, not sorted at all. Trying to cost up buying glasses in, hiring or using plastic ones. And wine never tastes as good from a plastic glass.
Hotel has been confirmed, numbers firmed up on the speadsheet, coffee and tea numbers guessed at. Still considering how best to do the Pringles and try to avoid that juggling wine, crisp, handbag, not enough hands thing. Bookmarks have been proofed, five other events confirmed and another interview done but can't recall who for. This was all supposed to be going on in the office in peaceful quiet.. then the builders turned up with a new front door. It then was as peaceful as Aleppo.
Builder, who has more or less lived in my house for the last four years, seemed to have lost weight. He normally looks like a hammer thrower. Now he looks like a slightly thinner hammer thrower. On enquiry he said that he was taking part in Strictly Come Dancing in aid of the local hospice. My gp is doing that as well, but he is built like, because he is...a half marathon runner. That is one duel I will pay money to see. Big Daddy taking on Mo Farah in Strictly come Prancing!
The faithful PA and I were driven from our office by the noise and the lack of electricity for the spreadsheet of wonder. So we went in search of muffins and latte, taking solace in Lidl carpark to eat strawberry tarts, sneaking in and out of poundshops to look at disposable table ware. Such is the life of the rich and famous!
The builders were supposed to be looking after the pit bull as there was no front to close obviously. They promised they would but the hairy beastie came down the road to meet us when she heard the car engine. The pitbull had obviously been enjoying some free range terrorisation of local squirrels and continued the war of attrition with the Parsons jack russell down the road. The Parsons russell is the one that looks as though it is on stilts.
Did a biog for John Gordon Sinclair for the killer cookbook, and spent the rest of my time checking proofs, and answering another 45 emails.
The builders eventually left, without giving me a key for the door.
Men!
More tomorrow,
Caro
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
Day 17 and counting
Hi,
The faithful PA was back at work today and somehow the arrival of the complicated spreadsheets, the requests for receipts, the hyper efficient typing made it all seem so grown up - the Olympics seemed a long way away, all that simplicity of running round and round as fast as you can. Like cleaning up after a good party, dipping into the after eight box to find out that someone has eaten all the chocolate and put the envelopes back in. ( another offence that should bar you from voting). It's a bit like settling down to start a book you really like the look of and then thinking.. I've read this before.
Took dog out very early. Saw a lovely wee border collie, about 6 months old. It took one look at Pit Bull and ran away, (clever dog). The owner came over and said that my dog was 'interesting looking.' He should get a job in the United Nations Peace keeping force with that degree of diplomacy. Did some patients, tried to make that spreadsheet work, coloured lots of boxes in red, typed in boxes but I couldn't see it. Took my ages to work out I was typing in red font on a red back ground. Stressed about that, I then sat down with a cup of tea and watched Mo Farah's 5000 metres again, still thought the Ethiopian was going to go past him in the last 100 metres. But he didn't manage it, again.
Getting together some of the plans for the Killer Cook book which is a rather exciting project, something a little different. I think I said earlier that is it the best Christmas present for somebody that you do not like.
I can say no more or I would have to kill you. From looking at them some of these recipes just might.
Have been given a book to look at by a friend. It is nearly very good just technically a bit fuzzy at times, nothing that a close edit will not sort out. The close edit will go on in a rather tasty curry house with some wine - it's the best way to do it!
Got through 105 emails today, including a email discussion on how to keep pigeons off the top of the windows at work. Without killing them - that seemed to be the automatic response. Kill Them! Decided that the war on pigeon pooh might be more honourably won by putting that wirey brush stuff on. That was a lot of typing all about pigeon shit. It's very difficult to remove, hardened and in many layers. Like Joan Rivers make-up
. Two minutes after all that bird pooh that I was being posh, doing an interview with the Herald.
Tomorrow I am going to get my novel back on schedule. For Defo!
or Else!
Caro
The faithful PA was back at work today and somehow the arrival of the complicated spreadsheets, the requests for receipts, the hyper efficient typing made it all seem so grown up - the Olympics seemed a long way away, all that simplicity of running round and round as fast as you can. Like cleaning up after a good party, dipping into the after eight box to find out that someone has eaten all the chocolate and put the envelopes back in. ( another offence that should bar you from voting). It's a bit like settling down to start a book you really like the look of and then thinking.. I've read this before.
Took dog out very early. Saw a lovely wee border collie, about 6 months old. It took one look at Pit Bull and ran away, (clever dog). The owner came over and said that my dog was 'interesting looking.' He should get a job in the United Nations Peace keeping force with that degree of diplomacy. Did some patients, tried to make that spreadsheet work, coloured lots of boxes in red, typed in boxes but I couldn't see it. Took my ages to work out I was typing in red font on a red back ground. Stressed about that, I then sat down with a cup of tea and watched Mo Farah's 5000 metres again, still thought the Ethiopian was going to go past him in the last 100 metres. But he didn't manage it, again.
Getting together some of the plans for the Killer Cook book which is a rather exciting project, something a little different. I think I said earlier that is it the best Christmas present for somebody that you do not like.
I can say no more or I would have to kill you. From looking at them some of these recipes just might.
Have been given a book to look at by a friend. It is nearly very good just technically a bit fuzzy at times, nothing that a close edit will not sort out. The close edit will go on in a rather tasty curry house with some wine - it's the best way to do it!
Got through 105 emails today, including a email discussion on how to keep pigeons off the top of the windows at work. Without killing them - that seemed to be the automatic response. Kill Them! Decided that the war on pigeon pooh might be more honourably won by putting that wirey brush stuff on. That was a lot of typing all about pigeon shit. It's very difficult to remove, hardened and in many layers. Like Joan Rivers make-up
. Two minutes after all that bird pooh that I was being posh, doing an interview with the Herald.
Tomorrow I am going to get my novel back on schedule. For Defo!
or Else!
Caro
Monday, 13 August 2012
Day 18 and counting
Big Big clinic day.
13 hours in all.
But flights for my wee tour of Stornoway and Benbecula sorted, book marks for launch sorted, lots more folk coming.
Lots of good patients in - three lattes and two salad rolls, a bottle of wine and three packets of crisps. That was the food haul from the patients. I think that they think I will not hurt them if they bring me gifts to feast on. They are wrong.
Topics of discussion today were Jessie J's outfits at the closing ceremony. ( Did she look in a mirror?) The ongoing question of the universe - why are people reading 50 shades of mince? Can yummy mummies bring down the government? Those last two seem to be related topics. Maybe reading and enjoying 50 shades of mince should exclude you from having the right to vote. This seems to be a common view. It is also a good conversation starter, just ask if you ruled the world who would you exclude from voting on the basis that they have no sense. Answers I have heard include - Runrig fans, Sun readers, anybody who buys a dog that is a doodle, anybody with a 'child on board' sticker, adults who read Harry Potter, adults who don't read Harry Potter, anyone who votes on Big Brother/X Factor/The Voice, etc etc, anybody who finds subtitles 'distracting'.
Now that I have remembered all those I will not sleep, as all the others come flooding back to me.
... anybody who thinks Liam Gallagher can sing, anybody who thinks it is cool to wear an FCUK t-shirt.
You see, endless hours of amusement
People who make lists of those ineligible to vote!
Caro
13 hours in all.
But flights for my wee tour of Stornoway and Benbecula sorted, book marks for launch sorted, lots more folk coming.
Lots of good patients in - three lattes and two salad rolls, a bottle of wine and three packets of crisps. That was the food haul from the patients. I think that they think I will not hurt them if they bring me gifts to feast on. They are wrong.
Topics of discussion today were Jessie J's outfits at the closing ceremony. ( Did she look in a mirror?) The ongoing question of the universe - why are people reading 50 shades of mince? Can yummy mummies bring down the government? Those last two seem to be related topics. Maybe reading and enjoying 50 shades of mince should exclude you from having the right to vote. This seems to be a common view. It is also a good conversation starter, just ask if you ruled the world who would you exclude from voting on the basis that they have no sense. Answers I have heard include - Runrig fans, Sun readers, anybody who buys a dog that is a doodle, anybody with a 'child on board' sticker, adults who read Harry Potter, adults who don't read Harry Potter, anyone who votes on Big Brother/X Factor/The Voice, etc etc, anybody who finds subtitles 'distracting'.
Now that I have remembered all those I will not sleep, as all the others come flooding back to me.
... anybody who thinks Liam Gallagher can sing, anybody who thinks it is cool to wear an FCUK t-shirt.
You see, endless hours of amusement
People who make lists of those ineligible to vote!
Caro
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
