Purveyor of Tall Tales.

The week that was: Shit happens

OK. So in an attempt to get some semblance of regular posting I have decided to introduce regular features. One of the problems of with the blog has been steadfast refusal to self filter and spawn other blogs for certain topics hence I subject many of you to numerous random posts that may not be of interest. The week that was will be a round up post noting stuff that happened in the last week to either me, the world (and thus worthy of comment) or just stuff from my notebook.

This is not an original idea.

It exists because it’s a handy way of letting people I know, who aren’t in my general vicinity, keep up to date with what I’ve been up to (one of the original purposes of the blog). It will be posted on Sunday/Monday times. Ish. Reviews will also be making a return soon.

So here goes:


The majority of my contact with the outside world last week was limited to the odd trawl of the news feeds to learn the startling fact that Clare Short doesn’t like Tony Blair much. Who knew. In other political shenanigans it seems Andrew Marr hurt Alastair Campbell’s feelings, the news being that he has them. Who knew.

The rest of what happened in the world really passed me by for reasons that will become clear.


The day job is not really a topic I dwell on here, other than the broader theme of digital. The main news last week was that mergers and acquisitions that had previously been off the table suddenly returned with a certain .com offloading one of its lesser properties for a cut down retail price. On a personal note the hours got a bit long as unrelated deadlines collided with SQL servers that refused to restart and apparently sternly telling them to Sought It Out doesn’t work.


Ah. In spite of the afore mentioned day job creep I did manage to hit more consecutive writing slots than I have done in quite some time. I only missed one slot and that was more a case of if I was capable of writing anything on four hours sleep you wouldn’t want to read it. I’ve mainly been finishing off The Scarred God rewrite, this involves substantial rewrites to Act 3 and is definitely, absolutely, positively, the last draft (not to be confused as another draft but the same draft I was working on last year). Unless someone buys it. Fingers crossed I can keep the rhythm.


I finished The Road in time to start a new book and spent the week’s commute poodling my way through Revolutionary Road. It’s kind of a black comedy about suburbia as far as I can tell but it verges in places on that kind of early 20th century American prose that just feels like it’s trying too hard. Crushingly smart observation mixed with terribly cynical analysis that – on occasion – misses the point. Interesting read though.


Urm. Yes: having one of my periodic I Will Get Fit Or Die Trying programmes. I managed a staggering four sessions at the gym and am starting to feel more relaxed there although I still find the amount of nudity on display in the changing room somewhat off putting. Hey, I’m not a prude but really there’s no need for me to see that. Especially before breakfast.

And by the time the weekend rolled round I had about enough energy to sprawl on the sofa.

Next week: Actual Stuff Happens. I hope.

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