under another sun

Ken's funeral up in Leamington today.  I did not go to it. I sent a message to the Goodwin family a few days ago. Otherwise felt buoyant from an excellent day's work. I wrote over four thousand words on my horror story. It is a strange business. It feels like chipping away at a wall, which suddenly gives way into a whole new room into which you step in an effortless way. Rather exhilarating. In the absence of anything else going on, at least this is great fun. I also downloaded a simple app which blocks you when you try to look at facebook. I don't even much like facebook any more, but I find a kind of muscle memory makes me automatically click on it. This app gives you sterling messages about focus and not being distracted. It is brilliant. I found I automatically clicked on Facebook three times today, and was thwarted each time, and simply returned to work. Went to the gym, but had one of those times where I simply did not fancy it, and felt weirdly hot when I start...

Up and working early. Unnaturally hot blue day again, with our weather streaming up from the equator. Worked on the horror project somewhat, also a day of friends getting in touch, messages from Adele and Yvonne, Shaila, Chris Williams, and emailing Trace. After I went to the gym in the afternoon, I bumped into Neil Noon in Sainsbury's and had a half an hour chat about writing. He told me about a podcast that specialises in horror which was useful. Neil had a play on the BBC radio a couple of years ago, which I heard. He referred to his producer several times, which was impressive. After the gym, home in the sunshine to some more writing, then cooking, and chatting to Lorraine. We watched an episode of Endeavour, the TV series which is prequel to Morse, and is set in the sixties. I have a soft spot for this programme, which is completely targeted at people of my age and above which is rather worrying. In this episode, a complex story of murder, a girl's school and the histo...

Another day kicking my heels waiting for a brief. Lorraine took the car in for a service and had to wait hours, but luckily had her computer with her. I wrote more of the horror story, and then went at lunchtime for an hour and a half of a walk and around Hollingbury Hill and the golf course. Unnaturally warm and sunny day, and the  crows looking shiny black. As I walked, I listened to the start of a  Under the Skin , by Michel Faber, of which a good film was made that Lorraine and I saw starring Scarlett Johansson. The book (horror inflected naturally) is different, but interesting. Home and did more work on the horror story. Later in the evening an email saying I would be briefed first thing tomorrow morning, but on a different job. So it goes. Lorraine finally released from an expensive garage visit (new rear brake bits) sat happily on the sofa watching The Great British Sewing Bee. I read another story by Thomas Ligotti. Below sunny vistas, the sea sparkling, and a...

Last three days, after Saturday's excitements were spent close to our hotel on Skala Potamia. The resort seemed less busy in the last week.  Annoyingly I developed a summer cold, which became a chest infection.  However as our days were spent underneath beach umbrellas reading and going for the occasional snorkel it didn't spoil anything and we were winding down very well by now, dreaming on our sunbeds and with the wooded arms of the land stretching out either side of the bay, and the mountains behind. Reprehensibly, we managed to put on several kilos. Not a great place for keeping to a diet. We also got to know some of the new guests, a likeable couple called Dave and Jeanette knew my old school friend Mike Longman. Dave and Mike had been in the police together. Another was a recently-widowed woman in her 40s who worked in education called Penny. Fell in with these a bit and sat in the hotel bar with them from time to time, being served by a pleasant Englishwoman called Su...

Getting organised First morning in blighty. Grey all day. How can us Brits live without ever seeing the sun in summer? No wonder so many of us are busy stabbing each other. Slept well though in the cool night, however, but woke unfeasibly early and got up after an hour or so to sift my email backlog. Spent the morning setting up another interview for next monday - and a possible one with Bill Bryson on the horizon, which if it came off would be a fascinating. I seemed to have a million things to organise today: Ash text nagged me to book my ticket to Eire, and Marcella followed it up with several emails, telling me I needed to bring a suit and so on. Marcella's wedding is on November 1st in her home town of Westport on the gorgeous west coast. I went there a few years ago with several pals to celebrate Marcella's birthday, and Matty boy drove me off to the grave of my hero WB Yeats. Also researched the local gyms, and have narrowed it down to two. Then internet groceries, ...