Day 10

5.04: The postmen have called truce with the bosses, and will be doling out the mail uninterrupted between now and Christmas. Well they’ve a backlog to clear I suppose, but what about all those postal novels that now won’t get off the ground? They’ve barely had time to rattle off a limerick. The decline in support for industrial action is playing merry hell with the nation’s creative excursions. Perhaps I should go on a sympathy strike.

5.41: If there’s one thing that isn’t conductive to things poetic and muse-courting, it’s Google’s commemorative Sesame Street birthday graphics. I know I’m being curmudgeonly, but it’s 5.41 in the morning, and there’s some gawky puppet grinning idiotically between the letters of the Internet’s chief information finding tool. It’s the search engine equivalent of a Freddy Krueger film; I think the furry critter’s real, but he’s starting to come after me in dreams. Hackers in my readership, please start laying puppet poison. Meantime I’m only doing searches if heavily armed with candles, prayerbooks, garlic, amulets, holy water.

6.50: The end of the planning phase is drawing near. A couple more days should do it, though I’ve left a few gaps in the tricky spots along the way: elephant traps to snare me while I’m lumbering through the long grass of the narrative jungle. Soon time to tool up with shotgun and pith helmet.

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~ by David Thorley on November 6, 2009.

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