A weekend of space to breathe - four days of catching up and consolidating. I took Friday off to try and make inroads on a piece of writing I have to deliver at the end of the month. Eventually, after hours of uninspired hard work I gave up and tidied my study. I think that there are few pleasures in life greater than getting up in the morning the day after you've tidied up and taking a few minutes to enjoy the clear surfaces, alphabetised books and right angles you've imposed. So, a good start to today, even if I have 4000 words to get through. I must work on integrating writing into other things I do. I still do it the way I did when I was a gonzo batchelor, sat in front of the computer with all other demands on my time subjugated to The Deadline and just a bottle of vodka for comfort. I sank about 8 pints of coffee yesterday, which may have been just as couterproductive.
The post arrived this morning. For me, two issues of Doctor Who Adventures, complete with inflatable mosnters, sticker book, poster, and Doctor Who pencil and notepad. For Helen, the electricity bill. Someone in this household is more overtly keeping his inner child alive.
There are leaks coming from the school in Switzerland where Genesis are rehearsing for their reunion tour. If they play some of the songs they've been practising when they come to Twickenham in July, I shall have tears in my eyes. What a time this is for my eternal fifteen-year-old self, Doctor Who back on TV, Genesis back on the road, and I've even got some exams to take soon, to obtain professional certification as a boring tit who works in IT. The man who came to fix the shower yesterday asked what I did and instantly regretted it when I started telling him. The power to bore domestic appliance engineers - what a gift. He left so quickly he didn't even ask to see the warranty.
Despite my electoral opposition on Thursday, it seems the SNP has gained control of the Scottish parliament. I have a wooly fear that this will endanger the union between Scotland and the rest of Britain, and am not sure how I feel about having to learn Gaelic in order to understand the Scottish-only radio, television and newspapers that will supplant the British ones, to surrender my British passport, and become a first generation immigrant in this fledgling nation. On the other hand, it may just be that there won't be any Scottish seats at Westminster, and the Scottish parliament will actually assume some significance. Until someone tells me, I'm not going to start shouting. That's been the problems with referenda so far - voters assume the choice is what they most fear, and vote accordingly. At least it will all be spoken about publically, and I'm sure nothing will happen overnight.