Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Street papers, story time and our house.

1. I have been beating myself round the head for failing to pick up a copy of The Guardian on Saturday -- my own brother had an article in it. But Nick calls to say he has found a still-wrapped copy in the street.

2. I am keying a typescript, and I lose track of time. I have to dash off at an intriguing moment -- a stranger in a tall silk hat has just asked the little girl (the author of the memoir) if she sleeps in her white kid button-up boots. What will she say, and who will he turn out to be?

3. I never get sick of people walking into our flat and exclaiming at how large and airy the living room is.


  1. One of my things, coming here to read yours.
    Another one; finding amusement that the author of the story is wondering what one of the characters will do.

  2. Joe -- it wasn't actually my story. It was a typed manuscript that I was putting into a computer document.

    But not knowing what the characters are going to do next happens more often than you'd think.


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