I ache quite badly today and my hands are sore. Put it down to the amount of paint lashed on to the walls at the new house, the abundance of sanding and balancing on a banister to reach those bits at the top. We now have two weeks in which to decorate and move, the carpets come a week on Wednesday and I still have a play to write. Spoke to our director friend down the pub last night. An advert for Sully, he confirmed, was flashed up on the big screen at Hull's premier sporting venue the KC Stadium during the annual rugby league derby game the other week. "At the end they added that the play's written now," he jested. But that it was.
Life of a writer # 653. Spotted Ian, who wrote a rather amazing and very entertaining book about the history of the Adelphi club last year. I was in B&Q buying paint. He was dressed in orange and black. Was thinking what a peculiar choice of clothing it was, but then thought, so what, he's a bohemian creative sort, a good lecturer, a decent writer, if anyone can get away with wearing black and orange, he can. Then realised he was working in there. Surely he's there for research purposes, eh? Bracing myself for his Charles Bukowski-style novel about this menial job.
Listening: Ray Lamontagne - Shelter
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