Saturday, 22 February 2014

Fingers bleeding. Got to stop.

It's not as if there's anybody flaying me or screaming for my blood but I've been writing like a crazed fool all week. And now I'm on the downhill slope of Old Geezers 2. A few days should see it off. The first draft is going to be short; barely 85k words, but I'll flesh it out on subsequent attempts. 

   And just like my writing I've run out of ideas. I painted this with all the intention of giving the deer something to look at but I've drawn a blank.
Maybe I'll come up with something tomorrow; but as for tonight, I'm going to hit the hay.

   I love Saturday mornings, nothing to do and the whole weekend lying ahead. Although tomorrow it's my daughter's birthday and I'm sure she's already got a million things for me to pay for.

   I can't believe that just a few days ago I was cleaning up her projectile vomit -  and now she's nineteen.

  I'm feeling sooooooooooooo old.


  1. I sympathize, even though I've got eight more years to go before Miss Tadpole hits that milestone. I feel plenty old as it is.

  2. And not helping is when your alleged daughter wakes you up with "Get up you old git. It's my birthday. Oh, were you asleep?" - at 0530.

  3. I say buy your daughter the world. Spoil that young lady. Nice painting. The deer is very good. All that writing? I can't wait to read some.