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Sunday, 13 January 2019

New Year, same old me.

I'm not a competitive runner. I'm so uncompetitive that I hate running with other people. In fact, if anyone even sees me running I tend to stop and look at the hedge, or pretend I'm just out for a slightly brisk walk and I just wear running clothes because they are comfortable and keep the wind out. The red face and sweat are merely details.

But I've signed up to do a 10k run in May. I may have to insist that all the other runners do so with their eyes shut, in order not to inadvertently catch a glimpse of me running with them. Not that it matters really, I shall be so far at the back that only the person who comes along behind to pick up the litter and the fallen runners would be in any danger of seeing me actually doing it, and it may well take me all day to get round the course, but I am going to do it.

Everyone needs new challenges, and the New Year is a time we are supposed to set ourselves these challenges. Last year I thought I'd set the sort of challenge that sounds doable, but apparently eating a cake a day doesn't count as a challenge and merely results in not being able to wear your usual trousers, hence this year being the year of the 10k run, in order to undo the damage of last year's challenge. Next year I am probably going to have to challenge myself to do everything from a sitting position with my legs raised for the same reason.

When you've got stumpy little legs like mine, running isn't fun. All right, it's a nice way to see the countryside, but when even the cows are laughing at you, you come to realise that all your games teachers were right, you might as well take up chess or jigsaws or any other nice sedentary hobby. Flailing is an unattractive method of locomotion at the best of times, when it's accompanied by a red, sweaty face dragging a sturdily-built body, is it any wonder I don't run in company?
 So I begin my 'training schedule', which is really just me making 'run as far as I can get without falling down and praying for death' sound technical.

The dog seems to enjoy it, though...

Monday, 31 December 2018 Yes, thingie..that thing

I'm raising a glass to the new year. Hic. Yes. This is glass, fairly sure, can see through it. Might be window. Yes, let's open window, it smells a bit in here.

So. Raising a window to the new year. 2019. What a year that might be.. What? Oh, yes, my new year message...

Happy New Year!

What? You expected more? Can't you see glass-thingie in my hand? Am toasting. Can't toast and talk, apparently, keep missing mouth. Also in danger of dropping glass, because world is shaking or possibly I am falling over. We'll wait and see...ah, hello nice solid comforting floor. You is lovely floor. Hic. Lovely. Always liked you.

Just remains to say...remains to say...what does it remain to say? I usually just remain to say sorry for stains and send me dry cleaning bill, but not that I don't think. Floor is nice.  Ah yes, I remember. It just remains for me to say "Thank You" to all my lovely readers and reviewers and people who say nice things about my books. Have a wonderful 2019.

And a glass of this stuff. It's fine. No, there's plenty, honestly... I think we made it in the bath.

Sunday, 16 December 2018

Here we are again...

It probably hasn't escaped your notice, perceptive little thing that you are, that my whole website has had a bit of a makeover. And so, to launch its whole 'new lookishness', I feel obliged to post about my new book:
This, in fact, is it. There are links all over the place. In fact my website is so all-encompassing, that you probably only have to think 'oh, that's a nice cover', and my website will arrange for Richard Armitage (or whoever you currently have pictures of in that 'hidden' folder on your computer) to come round to your front door with a copy, which he will read to you whilst he simultaneously makes you a cup of tea.

Websites can do that, apparently.