This is England
Stayed at Lorraine's last night, and was woken by a cat placing its paw on my forearm. Disorientated, I opened my eyes in the middle of a dream, and saw a face about six inches from mine, and in the half-light I mistook it for a small and intense child. This, for some reason, scared the bejasus out of me. I haven't been as alarmed by a cat since Paddy the Ghost Cat pattered into my bedroom.
Did a morning's work as God's own copywriter for the religious charity I'd been doing a bit for through my old agency. Thanks to feline intervention I found I was up exceedingly early so also got quite a bit done on my Skeleton story, have written over 20,000 words of it now, which is er, cracking along.
Another swim, the fourth of the week, left me feeling pretty shattered and still aghast at how fat and out of condition I am.
Rented a movie about skinheads in the 80s called This is England which I thought was a really good, excellently acted, a great script, and top subject matter.
I personally don't remember skins much in the 80s, though I was afraid of them in the 70s where at least in Norf London they were synonymous with far-right nutters the National Front, or kids who wanted to be associated with something hard and dangerous. Sharp clothes though: navy blue Crombie coats, checked Ben Sherman shirts, two tone Tonic trousers and Doc Marten boots.
Stayed at Lorraine's last night, and was woken by a cat placing its paw on my forearm. Disorientated, I opened my eyes in the middle of a dream, and saw a face about six inches from mine, and in the half-light I mistook it for a small and intense child. This, for some reason, scared the bejasus out of me. I haven't been as alarmed by a cat since Paddy the Ghost Cat pattered into my bedroom.
Did a morning's work as God's own copywriter for the religious charity I'd been doing a bit for through my old agency. Thanks to feline intervention I found I was up exceedingly early so also got quite a bit done on my Skeleton story, have written over 20,000 words of it now, which is er, cracking along.
Another swim, the fourth of the week, left me feeling pretty shattered and still aghast at how fat and out of condition I am.
Rented a movie about skinheads in the 80s called This is England which I thought was a really good, excellently acted, a great script, and top subject matter.
I personally don't remember skins much in the 80s, though I was afraid of them in the 70s where at least in Norf London they were synonymous with far-right nutters the National Front, or kids who wanted to be associated with something hard and dangerous. Sharp clothes though: navy blue Crombie coats, checked Ben Sherman shirts, two tone Tonic trousers and Doc Marten boots.
Comments