Friday, 14 September 2018

Don't need an excuse at the moment

 I think I've displayed my undying love for my daughter by donating one of my favourite possessions to her moving house fund.

    This won't mean anything to those that don't know or care about guitars, but I gave her my 70's Fender Stratocaster. The American model and not the Japanese. That's important to those who know such things; although not to me, really, since all I could ever get out of it were the aggrieved shrieks of a strangled cat. 










I haven't had to invent an excuse not to write for the past two weeks because my right arm doesn't work.

    I still believe that the National Health Service of Britain is a great thing but waiting three weeks for an orthopedic appointment does seem a little long - especially as I haven't had two hours uninterrupted sleep in all that time. My near total immunity to painkillers of any kind doesn't really help the situation either. The hospital gave me Tramadol, which everyone says would turn me into a zombie. I would have done better to beat myself senseless with the box for all the good they did. What has saved me from almost certain insanity is the hot water bottle which has lived for all that time on my shoulder. Roll on next week. If they don't find out what's wrong, or even better, fix it, I may have to take matters into my own hand.

    Another thing. Using a mouse with my left hand is really difficult - and I'm left handed.



Friday, 24 August 2018

just a way of avoiding writing.

I don't know why I keep painting such terrible dross. Well actually I do. It's to avoid writing.



    That in itself is a mystery. I love writing. It's just that my next book keeps changing in my head. I know, it should keep changing on the MS. I think I'll let it roil around for a few more weeks before I put finger to keyboard (as it were). Maybe by then it will have sorted itself out and I'll be one of those mythical writers who can write the first draft and just send it off secure in the knowledge that it's perfect.

  Fat chance!!

    Notice how I messed up one of the layers I was so recklessly boasting about the other week.

Friday, 17 August 2018

Ellie's got diabetes

It never would have occurred to me.

    Ellie has not been in the best of health for a week or two. A little unsteady on her feet and generally unwell, hence her less than warm greeting last time I saw her.

    I did suspect that she had laminitis, which always makes horses grumpy. I would be too if my neck was as hard as rock and my hooves crumbling. 

    But no, it's not the plentiful supply of grass, which for a Shetland pony is a bad thing, since they apparently spend their lives leaping around searching for the odd blade of grass to nibble on in the wild. And I know there's not that much grass in the Shetland Isles, because I once did an exercise there whilst in the Royal Marines - awful drafty place.

    Apparently she has to be starved of all the things she loves the most - and of which she's probably had far too much.

    If she was grumpy before she's going to be a real pain from now on.

    She may only be the size of a mutant Labrador but she's got the impact velocity of a small car.

Monday, 13 August 2018

Changed the picture again.


I'm bored with it now, painting that is. Time to find something else to do.

    I'm sitting in my writing room, cringing at the noise from above. Two men (although it sounds like fifty) are replacing my roof. 

    I bought my house from a man, who first bought it from the council. And following all councils' historical meanness when it comes comes to housing their tax payers, it has a flat roof. Just because my fifteen year warranty ran out last year the insurance company has levied a £5000 excess on any payment they (hopefully) won't have to pay for should I make a claim.

    Even getting an insurance company to insure me is difficult. I'd have more luck if I lived in an area prone to...no, perhaps I shouldn't tempt fate. I don't believe in fate but there'e's no point in pushing my luck, which I don't believe in either. Maybe I'm just getting old and frightened. I was sixty one a few days ago.

    What really bugs me about becoming ancient, is that I still feel like an eighteen year old in my head. Somebody once told me this would happen but I laughed them away, just like all immortal teenagers do.

    Time for another book I think. I know I've been saying that for weeks but I had an especially good idea last night while all my ancient insides were all grumbling in harmony. And since I sold a novel the other day, and am now rejoining the best sellers I'll keep at it.

Sunday, 12 August 2018

My painting's still rubbish but I'm getting the hang of the layers.

 
  I might have gone a little overboard this time as there were about forty layers. No matter, it's the thought that counts.

    Although I wish the newest version of Gimp were a little more stable. It crashes an awful lot - usually when I haven't saved for a while.

Wednesday, 1 August 2018

Always time for a silly picture.

I heard a muttering sound this morning as I was going to work way too early.

    I don't speak peacock, or any kind of bird language to be honest. But I'm pretty sure it was saying
    Where are those sodding keys? It's been a long night.

Sunday, 29 July 2018

Getting the hang of this layers thing.

I've been practising hard at this layers business.

    Part of me still thinks that it's cheating, since if all I had was a piece of paper or canvas then I wouldn't be able to do layers. Therefore, as soon as I've got it I'm going to stop using them.

    Stupid? You're right.

    I learnt HTML just so that I could design my first web site, and afterwards I never used it again.

    Perhaps I've just got too much time on my hands.

Here's the first version:


And the second after using the Gmic filter on Gimp.


Not much difference really, but I like it.

    I think it's time to begin the new book. It's been two months since I finished the last, and after making absolutely no attempt to publicise it I've sold the magnificent number of 0 copies.

    Don't care. Porsche twin turbos are for girls anyway.

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