A beautiful day, at least on the Isle of Arran, which is where I was. Went there with Mo, Monty, my big sis, Ali, and my mum to scatter my dad’s ashes on the sands of Lamlash Bay. It was where we went every year for our summer holiday. We’d rent a house called Sea View right across a very thin road from the beach, and always got glorious weather for the two weeks we’d spend there.
Sea View in 2009
At the time, my pals at school and from our street were off to foreign climes in July to search for Full English Breakfasts in Mediterranean tourist traps or be waved at by a giant black mouse with only three fingers and a thumb in each sinister white glove. I can’t believe they had more fun than we.
We'd play on this when we were wee
Back in Glasgow, I realised that if I wanted to try NaNoWriMo again this year, I’d better get my act together, for November starts tomorrow. Last year, I completely failed to get my novel anywhere near the 50, 000 word mark required to complete the annual challenge, but I’m not letting that get me down. I have even less of an idea of what to write than I did last year, which is probably a good thing as I’m not hamstrung by my expectations. This is about writing fast, not well, necessarily, and I was too precious about my “Brilliant Idea” last time, as well as having no free time. After the complete mind, body and soul fuck of the last two months, it should hopefully give me something wholesome with which to occupy my mind.
Oh, and Happy Hallowe’en. I was going to dress Monty up as Batman (he already has the ears), but I’ve let that slip too. It’s left to the Vatican to cheer me up with some more of their patented nonsense. And, lest you think my Catholic-bashing is part of some Proddy agenda, here’s a link to my death-threat-worthy video about the Orange Walk. Like I say, Happy Hallowe’en.