Yesterday the skies were again overcast, the air cold and autumnal. It is always a difficult choice, when it comes to cycling clothing, too much and you sweat, too little and your freeze, so much of your clothing tends to be layering. I did not go far again yesterday Leuchars and home. Today, however, the skies are leaden and weeping profusely, so I will stay home today.
They have been working in the flats over the road from me for some weeks now – I’m sure the flats belong to the university, like most every other building in St Andrews. New kitchens have been installed in what was the sitting room, so I take it that the old kitchen has now become another bedroom. New students visited yesterday to look around the place, they look so young. They tell us we are getting old when policemen start to look young. Why I’m so old I can remember when girls in the “Wet T-shirt” competition, on the Isle of Man at TT week, actually kept their T-shirts on.
Off to Dundee Dental Hospital this afternoon. I applied to be a guinea pig for the students to (cut their teeth on) practice on. I want to be sure all is well when I go off to Europe in the spring. Those stupid English people voted to leave the EU (so no reciprocal health care arrangements now) and those stupid Scottish people let them, what does one do? You will find it easier to locate a Unicorn in Fife than find an NHS dentist willing to take you on their list of patients.
I did a bit of tidying up in the garden, moving some plants, that had been grown in pots, to the garden proper. Tying up the late Gladioli. They have not done much this year but again we look forward to better things next year, gardeners – always the optimist.
I have read many self help books, for budding writing over the years and most tell us, you have to read a lot, ‘to find your voice’. Listen to your voice by re-reading what you have written, in a critical manner, and try to improve on what you have written, something I should take more seriously, I am very lazy at re-reading and correcting.
At school, I can not remember us being taught much in the way of literature, and less so at college, but I can remember the teacher telling us that we should read as many different literary genres as possible, even if you do not particularly like, science fiction, for instance, read some. Problem I found was, that no matter the genre the story remand the same only told in a different voice or setting.
My cycling mate, when I lived in England, was a teacher at the local grammar school. I was scribbling a bit for my local cycling club magazine at the time, well, I had a lot more to scribble about then. I told him that I often woke up with ideas in my head but by the time I had washed and shaved they had vanished like ‘snaw aff a dike’ in spring.
“Keep a notebook by the side of your bed and jot down your thought when they are clear in your head,” he told me.
I preferred to jump out of bed and sit naked in front of my computer, regardless of the hour, and chap away at the keys, touch typing is very good for this sort of thing, you simply sit tell yourself stories, and the words appear on the screen as if by magic. You can do that when you live on your own, and no I do not wear pyjamas in bed. (Too much information there Walter.)
To be good at anything be it music, athletics, drawing…….you will have to practice the good books will also advise.
This is something I try to do every day, but when you are riding the same roads day in day out, it is hard to find inspiration there. Today I started writing about a ride I did in the summer. The chosen ride would take me over some hilly country. Taking my conventional bike would require a lot of honking up hills, but that was the point of the exercise. As I started writing, I got a bit carried away and started drifting into fantasy land. I started to inject a storyline within the storyline, sort of parallel storylines running side by side, intersecting from time to time, weaving themselves into a patterned cloth, as they went.
Sorry it can not publish my musings here for it must be delivered from under the counter – or read-only after the 9 o’clock watershed – or delivered in an e-mail that is delivered, inside a brown, plain, envelope.
I have never attempted an erotic sex story before and found it a lot of fun.