Norman morning
Up early and working on headlines for my French client before eight. A small part of what I was writing referred to the Festival of Impressionism in Normandy this summer. Looking at some Claude Monet, and drinking in the sunshine of another century for a few minutes. At noon I was all done with French copy, and I bolted outside. Still despicable underfoot, but made it as far as the supermarket where I panic bought three packs of Quorn sausages and some catfood.
In the afternoon recorded myself reading the first bit of This concert will fall in love with you. Matt had gently nudged me by text. Despite the fact he only wanted a rough guide, it took twelve attempts and I was a bus ride away from being happy with the results.
Downloaded Crazy Talk software, which Lorraine suggested to me. You can use it to animate paintings and so on. Investigating ways of bringing Skelton Yawngrave to life. But it seems to be a world of fun.
A Twin Peaks fix tonight. Got to the point now where I am listening to directors' voiceovers and so on. I never consciously realised how red Twin Peaks is. Everything is filtered to make it red, if it isn't red already.
Watched a Dear Diary presented by Mariella Frostrup. She looked at Virginia Woolf's diaries, which sound as if they are worth reading in a waspy way. I prefer keeping a blog to a diary. My diaries have always been full of the worst kind of self pity and whining, and whenever I have found one I despise myself. Don't have the same thing with blogs for some reason. But lately I have been toying with the idea of ending this blog. But writing it has become so automatic that, when push comes to shove, I can't quite do it. Not for nothing is Diary of a Nobody one of my favourite books. If you've not read it, you must.
Up early and working on headlines for my French client before eight. A small part of what I was writing referred to the Festival of Impressionism in Normandy this summer. Looking at some Claude Monet, and drinking in the sunshine of another century for a few minutes. At noon I was all done with French copy, and I bolted outside. Still despicable underfoot, but made it as far as the supermarket where I panic bought three packs of Quorn sausages and some catfood.
In the afternoon recorded myself reading the first bit of This concert will fall in love with you. Matt had gently nudged me by text. Despite the fact he only wanted a rough guide, it took twelve attempts and I was a bus ride away from being happy with the results.
Downloaded Crazy Talk software, which Lorraine suggested to me. You can use it to animate paintings and so on. Investigating ways of bringing Skelton Yawngrave to life. But it seems to be a world of fun.
A Twin Peaks fix tonight. Got to the point now where I am listening to directors' voiceovers and so on. I never consciously realised how red Twin Peaks is. Everything is filtered to make it red, if it isn't red already.
Watched a Dear Diary presented by Mariella Frostrup. She looked at Virginia Woolf's diaries, which sound as if they are worth reading in a waspy way. I prefer keeping a blog to a diary. My diaries have always been full of the worst kind of self pity and whining, and whenever I have found one I despise myself. Don't have the same thing with blogs for some reason. But lately I have been toying with the idea of ending this blog. But writing it has become so automatic that, when push comes to shove, I can't quite do it. Not for nothing is Diary of a Nobody one of my favourite books. If you've not read it, you must.
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