WEEK 2 - 9 January 2022
A Tormented Creative bent or ripped windscreen-wipers off seven cars on our road last night and left a wig-mirror (he’s vain, that neighbour) in artistic tatters. CCTV shows a tall guy, with a hat. The camera’s night-vision’s not what it was – bit like mine.
Btw, apparently WordPress makes it very diffy to Follow me here – stalkers take note.
Still, this week has been full of incident. I collect a pedigree Chausie cat – she yowls so loudly in the carrier on the way home, other motorists swerve. Sasha now purrs like a Bentley, and roars like a Tiger when she’s elated, but desists from ripping us limb from limb. The relief after Ms Hissy! She is still behaving like an angel to her new humans, painting me as a pathological liar with Munchausen’s.
Rachel, a fellow writer, inspires me to enter a comedy drama for BBC Open Call. Neurotically formatting and submitting the screenplay takes the whole of an unwashed week-end – not least because Auntie BBC has lightly added tough questions to answer, a la interviews. So unfair: might sue due to loss of greying grey cells. Unless I win of course.
Richard from Lancaster & Morecambe Cat Rescue arrives with grain-free food for pedigree Sasha; I’ve already procured the requisite raw meat. Local White Lund industrial estate is marvellous: bustling businesses wield industrial plasma and slate-cutters; others supply cradle-to-grave services for cars, lorries, homes; massive ironwork is forged; ditto metal recycled; glass cut; printing done … And raw meat in sealed boxes is on sale from a vast freezer. Oddly, The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover springs to mind.
Guitar practice: if the Gallaghers can do it, it can’t be that difficult. It’s been three weeks now. Why can’t I play Stairway to Heaven yet? Must be the plastic plucking thing.
I’ll miss Boorish, with all his mischievous creativity with Truth and naivety about grown-up parties. Lizzy Truss isn’t amusing at all, unless ejaculating about Pork.
Jonathan’s tall with a hat.
