I’m still finding my feet with this blog, and trying to hit the right tone for entries. P said the style was too much like a literary journal, which to the majority of casual browsers is probably massively off-putting, so I’m going to try and write about ordinary, day-to-day stuff as well (while still being as elitist as I want, when the fancy takes me). Immediately a problem arises though, as other than trudging to work and trudging back, and helping to look after Cora in the evening, almost nothing happens to me. I managed to tie up a scene in my novel this afternoon, writing on my lunch break (which I try to do every day), but other than that the day was nothing but a bolt of Zen-like boredom. It’s astonishing how quickly the days can pass though. When you abstract yourself from what you’re doing, when your mind isn’t even occupied by more interesting thoughts, you get the smallest insight into how an animal must experience time.

An aside: I read this on the Independent’s site today. Very funny, and made me wish I’d gone into management consultancy (although you would need to have your conscience removed first):


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