Suuuuh!
So today I stalked a street performer called Richard around Covent Garden. I've seen him before. Best one there.
I also spent a helluva long time going around the Theatre Museum.
Now I have one children's story and two slightly older ones in my head as a result.
One of the street performers in Covent Garden Market played a violin at me. Bach. He was good. I had no change so I grinned and he bowed flamboyantly and it was slightly embarrassing.
It was fun having celiaka round and have remembered an idea I had for a chess party in the brand new chess set garden over Christmas. My mother likes the idea. So it's still possible. Might be more of a weekend/couple of days than a single party. I don't know. I had the idea and it turned into tapioca and dripped out of my ears.
Interestingly, if I shut my eyes, I can still hear Neil Gaiman saying, "Hello, Ewa!" and remember his imitation of the wolf howl from The Wolves in the Walls when he read it aloud at the talk. Am suffering here. Wish I had a pensieve. It was such a fantastic day/evening/early morning.
Also, recorded the Neil Gaiman interview with Jonathan Ross onto a tape. He did not sing the rat song. He did, however, mention goblins.
Goblinsgoblinsgoblins.
Jonathan Ross is now another one of my favourite people.
Am appalling shameless.
And Ray Mears' LotR thing on the Big Read looked amazing but was a bit crap. It was saved, however, by the simple fact that Ray Mears = Samwise Gamgee. Once I saw the likeness it was horribly hard to watch the damn thing with a straight face.
Tomorrow I begin writing something else entirely. Sod NaNo. I have the willpower of a jam sandwich in a washing machine. I don't stick to my resolutions. Like you couldn't tell. But at least this time I have something amounting to a plot that doesn't require acres of bullshittage between important scenes. I'm going to hate myself in two weeks.
Am also downloading Reboot episodes seeing as celiaka reminded me they actually existed. Bob, man! Bob!
Will go back to sleep now. My right shoulder feels like it was ripped off by a hulking great grizzly bear who then stitched it back on with thistle-thread. This is what comes of spending two days walking around London.
Memo to self: THERE ARE NO WOLVES IN THE WALLS. It's JUST A STORY.
Interestingly, Christmas seems to have arrived early this year. -.-;;;
I also spent a helluva long time going around the Theatre Museum.
Now I have one children's story and two slightly older ones in my head as a result.
One of the street performers in Covent Garden Market played a violin at me. Bach. He was good. I had no change so I grinned and he bowed flamboyantly and it was slightly embarrassing.
It was fun having celiaka round and have remembered an idea I had for a chess party in the brand new chess set garden over Christmas. My mother likes the idea. So it's still possible. Might be more of a weekend/couple of days than a single party. I don't know. I had the idea and it turned into tapioca and dripped out of my ears.
Interestingly, if I shut my eyes, I can still hear Neil Gaiman saying, "Hello, Ewa!" and remember his imitation of the wolf howl from The Wolves in the Walls when he read it aloud at the talk. Am suffering here. Wish I had a pensieve. It was such a fantastic day/evening/early morning.
Also, recorded the Neil Gaiman interview with Jonathan Ross onto a tape. He did not sing the rat song. He did, however, mention goblins.
Goblinsgoblinsgoblins.
Jonathan Ross is now another one of my favourite people.
Am appalling shameless.
And Ray Mears' LotR thing on the Big Read looked amazing but was a bit crap. It was saved, however, by the simple fact that Ray Mears = Samwise Gamgee. Once I saw the likeness it was horribly hard to watch the damn thing with a straight face.
Tomorrow I begin writing something else entirely. Sod NaNo. I have the willpower of a jam sandwich in a washing machine. I don't stick to my resolutions. Like you couldn't tell. But at least this time I have something amounting to a plot that doesn't require acres of bullshittage between important scenes. I'm going to hate myself in two weeks.
Am also downloading Reboot episodes seeing as celiaka reminded me they actually existed. Bob, man! Bob!
Will go back to sleep now. My right shoulder feels like it was ripped off by a hulking great grizzly bear who then stitched it back on with thistle-thread. This is what comes of spending two days walking around London.
Memo to self: THERE ARE NO WOLVES IN THE WALLS. It's JUST A STORY.
Interestingly, Christmas seems to have arrived early this year. -.-;;;