Monday, October 25, 2004

The weekend wasn't just about theatre. There was pumpkin carving too, and some basketball action on the XBox (Sam has developed an unhealthy obsession with the sport of giant men. Still, it's amazing how cheap you can pick up a US sports sim for in Gamestation). I won't bore you with my troubles of numerous failed attempts to burn a multi-session CD by the Lost Prophets. Suffice to say, the BPI must love this band, although I quickly grew to despise them and their raucous rock bollocks. The things a father will do for his suddenly music-bonkers daughter. Danielle is going to see Green Day in Manchester, which is another sign that she is no longer a little girl. It'll be boyfriends next [[Freudian rant deleted]]. I hurled several dozen cassettes out at the weekend. Lots of r'n'b that I'll never get round to mangling up in the car cassette player ever again. I'm still pondering on how I ever procured such a large amount of the stuff, given that I'm not a big fan. It was called swing back then, not r'n'b. I'm getting old. A quick glance in the mirror during a recent toilet break revealed that I'm looking it too. Unshaven (this morning was a mad rush) and hair long overdue a scything, I wonder how I have a ten pints of lager aesthetic given that I've been nowhere near the stuff since Friday. A community group on the largest council estate in Europe want me to lead some creative writing workshops, which I'm really looking forward to. Like a fool, I've promised to supply some idea of what the workshops will entail. Don't think "Dave acts the fool in front of a dozen people for 90 minutes" will suffice somehow. Given that I don't believe in writer's block and have absolutely no idea where my ideas come from will mean that this will be as much a learning experience for me as it will be for them. Still, I've got 10 days to prepare something. 10 days! Eeeek! Again, I ask myself, what have I done? (suddenly, Stephen Jeffreys' quite fantastic writing workshop and all its quality content have just slipped my mind, just when I need it most. I fear there'll be a lot of "so, what do you want to write about?" and "tell me a little about yourselves". At least for the first three sessions).

Enforced car listening due to children in transit: Foxy & Tom's breakfast show. Fucking hell. In a bad way.

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