Yesterday I wandered happily, basket on arm, through the magical land of Kinokuniya. Some time later I struggled home under the weight of 16kg of books.
I remember when I finally hit the checkout, the cashier glanced at my laden basket and I'm sure, thought- " Damn! (Whatever that is in Japanese) I'm going to get the greedy bibliophile. RSI here I come."
Next blog I'd love to tell you about the three books that somehow happened into my basket just for me- Oopsy!
You know, I realise I talk a lot(!) about things I do. Are people wondering if I am doing any actual writing. Will my tombstone say I was a writer and then just give out this blog address? I do write but I can't really put my book writing stuff here. I do try and do daily writing about whatever just to keep my writing muscle ripped. Well, it's more just non-flabby at this stage.
OK so early yesterday I wrote after I walked the dogs, simply recalling observations eg
' The sun is rose gold. Tiny sprinkles of rain like icy talc float down onto my chilled arms.'
' Hundreds of baby acorns peep from the strong arms of an oak.'
' A bulging, battered, grimy skip looking far worse than the rubbish it contains.'
' The wind shearing softly through an emerald Liquid Amba.'
' A lawn of dandelion wilderness next to a clipped, manicured verge with nothing but an imagined neighbours frown between them.'
And there you have it. Please feel free to nominate me for the Pullitzer Prize.
Later I made written observations on the train but we shall wax no further. Apparently no writing or reading is wasted, so if I can't or don't work on my stories, I'm at least observing and recording. And I have to say, I love every bloody minute of it.
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