Annoying cluckers
Infernal night. Calliope speared a claw into the sole of my foot, then instantly hid out of grabbing range under the centre of the bed. Full of an Old Testament wrath as I seized the appalling weasel and once free she hared downstairs like Lucifer plunging into the dark. Being woken this way at 3:55am made me furious, and I ended up reading for some time afterwards before slipping into series of nightmares. The cat keeping a rather low profile for what remained of the night.
Work all day. French work this morning trying to brand a new tourism campaign, then a couple of chats about atrial fibrillation and strokes, plus a teleconference about the branding work I'm doing for the new agency. All fine, but increasingly full of cold and jadedness as the day wore on.
After work went to the supermarket where I was looking at a piece of smoked haddock, when two women near me started clucking like chickens. One searching my face as she clucked if looking for inspiration. Were they laughing at me? What did they mean by it? Such are the Pooterish incidents in my life.
Otherwise read more of the 50 literary ideas etc., and an episode of a new BBC SF drama series called Outcasts, filmed in South Africa, which was moderately interesting. No sign of anything looking remotely alien in the flora and fauna though. Then spoke to Lorraine who had been singing as she has rejoined her choir.
Pleased to see that my pitbull plecs are still uneaten. They are rather fascinating, being able to bury themselves in gravel, and also change the degree of their mottling to hide better.
Obviously I am not getting out enough, and feeling decidedly all-work-and-no-playish.
Infernal night. Calliope speared a claw into the sole of my foot, then instantly hid out of grabbing range under the centre of the bed. Full of an Old Testament wrath as I seized the appalling weasel and once free she hared downstairs like Lucifer plunging into the dark. Being woken this way at 3:55am made me furious, and I ended up reading for some time afterwards before slipping into series of nightmares. The cat keeping a rather low profile for what remained of the night.
Work all day. French work this morning trying to brand a new tourism campaign, then a couple of chats about atrial fibrillation and strokes, plus a teleconference about the branding work I'm doing for the new agency. All fine, but increasingly full of cold and jadedness as the day wore on.
After work went to the supermarket where I was looking at a piece of smoked haddock, when two women near me started clucking like chickens. One searching my face as she clucked if looking for inspiration. Were they laughing at me? What did they mean by it? Such are the Pooterish incidents in my life.
Otherwise read more of the 50 literary ideas etc., and an episode of a new BBC SF drama series called Outcasts, filmed in South Africa, which was moderately interesting. No sign of anything looking remotely alien in the flora and fauna though. Then spoke to Lorraine who had been singing as she has rejoined her choir.
Pleased to see that my pitbull plecs are still uneaten. They are rather fascinating, being able to bury themselves in gravel, and also change the degree of their mottling to hide better.
Obviously I am not getting out enough, and feeling decidedly all-work-and-no-playish.
Comments
Bit more info here: http://www.capetowngreenmap.co.za/go-green/invasive-aliens
Probably more info than you were expecting. x
I just want SF to look a bit more alien. At least Avatar, for all its risible storyline looked like a different planet.