where the writers are
Plumbers and packing

Today’s the day the plumber is supposed to turn up to do what I hope will be the final tweaks to our boiler and heating system – bearing in mind that this has been going on since last year, I have to say my patience is wearing rather thin. He may be really sweet and good at his job, but I do wish he’d put a rocket up his bottom and light the touch paper. I’ll even do that for him, if need be – no anaesthetics required. At this rate, it’ll be Christmas by the time it’s sorted out, sigh … It would be so nice to be able to turn off the heating over summer after all – which at the moment we can’t do as the hot water and heating are currently joined at the hip. So no heat equals no hot water. Still, we live in hope, eh.

Am continuing bravely on with the task of packing up the office for our move. I now have six crates full of stuff and it ain’t over yet. We desperately need more crates and the Estates men are even now going through the campus with the proverbial tooth-comb trying to find some for us. And I haven’t even started on the boss’s filing … I would make the attempt but the last two crates are stuck together and I think only prayer and fasting will prise them apart. Talking of which, here’s today’s meditation:

Meditation 117

When God had his chance,
there on the mountain

of fire and death,
you would have thought

he’d have picked
a whole lot more

than just ten commandments.

Andrea and I had a quick visit again to our new offices – in Senate House itself no less, so we are going upmarket, my dears. Soon you will have to call me madam, and mean it, you know (in a nice way) … I’ve decided, at the last minute, that I don’t like my desk being too near the window, so I’ve switched labels with one further away. I only hope Chaplaincy Ruth doesn’t mind, as that was her desk, but I’ve left an explanatory apologetic note, so I hope it’ll be okay. Lordy but how I hate moving. I won’t feel happy from now until the last crate is unpacked and I’ve bonded with my new space. And I’m already mourning the fact that Starbucks will no longer be next door. I mean how on earth am I supposed to know when the queue is short enough for me to join it?

Still, I had to get my literary head on for the writers’ group at lunchtime. Today’s writing game (and also the homework for next time) was to choose one of the ten first lines of novels I’ve gathered from my rather bizarre and unregimented book collection and then write what happens next. All they have to remember is to ditch that first line when they’re done and things should be fine. I really don’t want a plagiarism lawsuit on my hands after all … UPDATE: Well, it worked for me – I think I’ve started a piece of flash fiction about a skeleton, a man and a wood, but in a fantasy landscape, so we’ll see where that leads me. I quite like it so far.

Tonight, I’m going to gird my proverbial loins and go to visit Gladys on the way home – I’m hoping Mrs Nasty Nurse doesn’t start spitting at me again, as visiting is difficult enough without the nurses proving tricksy also, sigh … I can do without a double dose of grief coming my way for sure – really I can barely cope with a single dose. Not much on TV tonight either, though I might watch Dan Cruickshank waxing lyrical about Kew Gardens. He’s so cute. I’ll also try to get some more of my erotic short story done. It’s bubbling away nicely, but I do like getting things finished. As do the two men involved, of course.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Writers’ group
3. Short stories.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - packing away anything that doesn't breathe ...

Comments
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So you're not packing it in.

So you're not packing it in. The temptation must be ripe if you have a nurse spitting at you. Unless it is for due cause, of course.

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Not yet!...

... unless those dang crates start spitting back!

==:O

Axxx