Let’s be clear: the walls of my flat are a veritable rainbow of wrongness. The kitchen is acid yellow. The bedroom has one wall of purest green. My bathroom is a shade of blue which would make Avatar look a bit wan. But all this is as nothing to what I spotted in the window of Home Furnishing for the Mentally Sturdy.
I mean, it is AMAZINGLY BRILLIANT, and yet so very Charlotte Perkins Gilmany. The idea of those portholified ladyfaces peering at you through the walls…brrrr.
I quite want it as cushions, though. Is that wrong?
I read Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro, having forgotten that I hate Kazuo Ishiguro. (No, I’m still not over The Unconsoled.) Now I hate Kazuo Ishiguro and myself for reading the bloody thing. It’s perfectly page-turning and the narrative voice is efficiently done, but, ugh. It reminded me of the film The Village, where there’s meant to be a shocking twist, but it is neither shocking nor twisty. Now reading Mrs Tim of the Regiment, which is another lovely Bloomsbury thing about a forces wife pre WWII: very funny so far, and I can think of an actual Mrs Tim who would love it.
FIRST DRAFT DONE AND DUSTED, OH YES. Phew. Obviously it is extremely full of holes, and INSERT JOKE HERE notes, and people whose names change from Jim to Billy halfway through – but you can’t rewrite what you haven’t written yet. It feels good to have an ending to work backwards from. Six weeks to deadline: cross your fingers?
Succumbing to the Battlestar Galactica boxset, and finding the lack of Dirk Benedict quite surviveable; getting excited about the Peter Gabriel Scratch My Back covers exchange thing, which appears to resemble my CD collection at a swingers party; loathing the moronic Avatar for many reasons, Papyrus included.