Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Pot Black
Last night when Gail and I returned home (Laura was away at her Grans) I could not resist getting my digi-cam out to take a picture of the moon. It was freezing all day and by ten o'clock at night it was well below zero but that never stopped me.
With their being no cloud cover and the moon in full view, it was something I had to try and get a decent image of. I knew it could never be as good as the one permanently on my blog (see left), but I gave it a bash anyway. Gail thinks I'm mad for standing in the garden watching the moon when it was so cold, but it was so low and visible it was just great to look at. It's also one of the themes running through Stella so it's proving to be quite inspirational at the moment.
Anyway, here's the best of the bunch:
Back to today. Circadian Poems published my poem, Empty today. There's one more to go that they have accepted for the end of the month.
Work was actually quite good. Despite the department getting the shittiest pay rise we've ever had, we also got a new boss. I had my first meeting with her at half past eight this morning and despite the tales of woe that proceeded her management style, I think things might just be about to get better.
There's a long way to go of course; you can't just un-do three years of mis-management in a single week, but from the way our discussion went I think changes are on the horizon. For the first time in 36 months, a manager actually listened.
Randolph Lowe is a character in the story I'm working on, Stella. He's giving me some grief because he wants more of a part to play in this tale. So I'm going to give it to him. He was originally just the supporting character but the more the ideas and sub-plots develop in my head as I sit here day to day, the more he is becoming a restless and intriguing individual.
Stella is not going to be anything like I planned; I think it's going to be much better. I've not been able to work on it the past two days but tomorrow I'll be able to resume the writing the flood of words currently building behind the dam in my mind.
On a typical working day most of my actual writing is done in the evenings. The business side, i.e. marketing and promotional things, I do during the day over lunch, or perhaps I do some editing as well. I'd rather have the whole day to write but that's a luxury I'll have to wait a little longer to be able to do.
Another incident at the snooker club tonight found me having to defend my old Father in Law again. We were located at a table just off the main hall and had stopped playing temporarily to talk about something. This is quite normal as it is a very sociable club. It's also a public club so anyone can walk in and get a game. Sometimes you can find several people sharing a table and they can get quite noisy. C'est la vie; it never bothers us.
Anyway, there we were talking when from the other side of the room; "SSSHHHH!!"
"Excuse me?" I said, the line of my back rising. "You got a problem?"
No answer from the tall bloke and his wee pal who play in silence every week, like they think they are in the Crucible Theatre.
"You ARE allowed to talk in here, mate," I said.
"And we're allowed to play."
"So who's stopping you?"
"Just keep the fu**ing volume down."
"Can you show me the sign where it says 'no talking'? And don't swear at me again ya wee prick!" I said to the tall bloke.
Two boys playing at the next table chuckled at my blatant cheek. It was the end of the discussion. I went back to my table and took a sip of Kronenbourg. Ian asked me what that was all about - the poor old guy really should get his hearing tested because there was me defending his right to speak and he never heard a thing.
These are the pair who once asked a guy to take his keys out of his pocket once because the noise they caused as he walked round the table was "putting them off their game".
I'd have told him where to shove it, but the guy did as he was asked.
99% of the people who play at the club go there to have a beer, play some snooker and have a chat. It's not the World Championship and while I stand by the right of anyone to be able to play there in peace, I'm not going to stay silent all night because some snobby six foot twat wants to play in silence. There are silent areas of the club designated precisely for that purpose; if they can't afford or want to play there than that's their problem.
With their being no cloud cover and the moon in full view, it was something I had to try and get a decent image of. I knew it could never be as good as the one permanently on my blog (see left), but I gave it a bash anyway. Gail thinks I'm mad for standing in the garden watching the moon when it was so cold, but it was so low and visible it was just great to look at. It's also one of the themes running through Stella so it's proving to be quite inspirational at the moment.
Anyway, here's the best of the bunch:
Back to today. Circadian Poems published my poem, Empty today. There's one more to go that they have accepted for the end of the month.
Work was actually quite good. Despite the department getting the shittiest pay rise we've ever had, we also got a new boss. I had my first meeting with her at half past eight this morning and despite the tales of woe that proceeded her management style, I think things might just be about to get better.
There's a long way to go of course; you can't just un-do three years of mis-management in a single week, but from the way our discussion went I think changes are on the horizon. For the first time in 36 months, a manager actually listened.
Randolph Lowe is a character in the story I'm working on, Stella. He's giving me some grief because he wants more of a part to play in this tale. So I'm going to give it to him. He was originally just the supporting character but the more the ideas and sub-plots develop in my head as I sit here day to day, the more he is becoming a restless and intriguing individual.
Stella is not going to be anything like I planned; I think it's going to be much better. I've not been able to work on it the past two days but tomorrow I'll be able to resume the writing the flood of words currently building behind the dam in my mind.
On a typical working day most of my actual writing is done in the evenings. The business side, i.e. marketing and promotional things, I do during the day over lunch, or perhaps I do some editing as well. I'd rather have the whole day to write but that's a luxury I'll have to wait a little longer to be able to do.
Another incident at the snooker club tonight found me having to defend my old Father in Law again. We were located at a table just off the main hall and had stopped playing temporarily to talk about something. This is quite normal as it is a very sociable club. It's also a public club so anyone can walk in and get a game. Sometimes you can find several people sharing a table and they can get quite noisy. C'est la vie; it never bothers us.
Anyway, there we were talking when from the other side of the room; "SSSHHHH!!"
"Excuse me?" I said, the line of my back rising. "You got a problem?"
No answer from the tall bloke and his wee pal who play in silence every week, like they think they are in the Crucible Theatre.
"You ARE allowed to talk in here, mate," I said.
"And we're allowed to play."
"So who's stopping you?"
"Just keep the fu**ing volume down."
"Can you show me the sign where it says 'no talking'? And don't swear at me again ya wee prick!" I said to the tall bloke.
Two boys playing at the next table chuckled at my blatant cheek. It was the end of the discussion. I went back to my table and took a sip of Kronenbourg. Ian asked me what that was all about - the poor old guy really should get his hearing tested because there was me defending his right to speak and he never heard a thing.
These are the pair who once asked a guy to take his keys out of his pocket once because the noise they caused as he walked round the table was "putting them off their game".
I'd have told him where to shove it, but the guy did as he was asked.
99% of the people who play at the club go there to have a beer, play some snooker and have a chat. It's not the World Championship and while I stand by the right of anyone to be able to play there in peace, I'm not going to stay silent all night because some snobby six foot twat wants to play in silence. There are silent areas of the club designated precisely for that purpose; if they can't afford or want to play there than that's their problem.
Colin 12:47 pm