Just been to see the “Oxford Murders” film. FAR too brainy for me, all about logic and mathematics (sort of a thinking person’s Da Vinci code) but highly enjoyable even if I didn’t have the first bloody clue what Hurt and Wood were rambling on about. Beautifully photographed and dreadfully wonderfully English (if a wee bit over the top as in being able to run into a book shop and pick up the book you need instantly – and planes taking off one minute after someone clearing the gate…) with great cameos by the fabulous Anna Massey and Owen from Torchwood.
It’s Friday, and I have wine. How is it that when I say to Lili “DON’T stuff, you’ll be sick” she takes no notice of me at all? And was I right? Of course right. Gah. If there’s much more noxious than cat spew I don’t know what it is.Now she’s all curled up feeling sorry for herself.
Writing? Bah. This week I’ve done nothing. I feel bone weary and that’s no excuse I know. Professionalism means to be able to push yourself to write even when you really don’t want to. Or that’s how I view it anyway. Tomorrow, I shall not connect to the net, and I shall not put the TV on – just the radio and see if that helps. I used to work purely upstairs where there is only a radio. Perhaps that’s the answer. I tend to have the TV on for noise value, but it is a distraction – what about you lot? What do you do? Music? Silence? What?© Copyright 2008 Erastes, All rights Reserved. Written For: Erastes