Winners...

Watched the first half of Hull City's victory over Barnsley in Blackies club, in Brough. Lots of oohs and aaahs and applause as the game unfolded on the big screen. And lots of comments about the tufty unkempt turf over at Oakwell Road. I listened to the second half on the radio in the car - the Tigers coming away 1-3 winners and shifting up to second place in The Championship. Father would have been overjoyed, having suffered a lot of barren, frustrating years as he slavishly followed a club that rarely repaid his faith. Three games to go. Lots of twitchy bum moments for fans between now and the end of the season, I should think. The prefix to the game was a meeting about the new play. I felt like a writer again for a short while, as I feverishly spluttered out my barely-formed plot, ably supported by several pages of notes. Anyway, a positive chat that made me feel good. Keep the whole of 2009 free for now - if all goes according to plan the play will be performed at some point next year.

More jalapeños...

Today's highlight was an outing to get some Mexican food. A table for six and lots of burritos flying around. Splendid. This weekend there's been further progress on the boxes front and various odds and sods stored haphazardly in the garage. Yes, a garage. Don't get the wrong idea - the garage is almost as big as, if not bigger than, the property we're now living in. We're using the garage as a sort of glorified dustbin while our other glorified dustbin, the car, remains parked on the wrong side of the up-and-over door.

Did some work on one of two new plays. Had to - there's a meeting looming and still not much of a plot. Or there wasn't. Now there is. Sort of. I also headed off and bought a new domain name relating to this play with a bit of a plot's title. Which, given it's a working title and a script is still an abstract notion, may well prove to be a fiver wasted. This purchase was prompted by the stumbled across knowledge that On A Shout's .co.uk and .com versions were parked back in December. Just a coincidence, I'm sure. But I like my working title, which is four words long. And the .co.uk of it now belongs to me. My vanity knows no bounds.

I am watching Mark Lawson Talks To... on the frankly superb and lifestyle-changing BBC iPlayer. I've been aware of Lawson's many ticks for quite some time but this show's two static cameras approach (no shot-reverse shot noddy shenanigans here, it's all very commendably anti-fake magic of TV) to recording the interview seems to exacerbate Lawson's twitchiness and blinking. And what is it with his left hand? Why does he keep curling up his fingers and staring at his finger ends? Wouldn't it be better if he went and bought himself some nail clippers and shed whatever it is that's bothering him/me/possibly you?

Reading: Norma Farnes - Spike: An Intimate Memoir