Stupid Late Delivery

 Wednesday 21st October. 5.15 p.m. I am supposed to be having someone coming from Milton Keynes Council to help me possibly claim more benefits, to hopefully boost my income. I had a letter this morning in the post, but it gave me the time and date for the appointment, but it for last Monday. So, it was really not sensible to be sent a letter with an appointment which was PAST! It sees our wonderful (do you get a hint of irony in my words here?) Post Office is incapable of delivering mail, on time, so you don't miss an important appointment. Would have been better to send it by snail, tortoise of any other high-speed delivery system, bot your average Postie on a bicylce or on his flat feet.

Friday. 23rd October. 8.30 a.m. The usual routine here at Fun Central (I have called it Fogeyville, because of the oldsters who dwell here. I have just had my 76th birthday, but I certainly don't think of myself as old.) Anyway, the washing machine is doing my laundry and I will go back and put most of it in the tumble drier in around 30 minutes.

I was supposed to have flu vaccine last Saturday. I knew it was at around 1.30 p.m, or thereabouts. I had to go shopping in Sainsbury's and we'd had our monthly Prayer Triplet via WhatsApp. But I spent so long in Sainsburys, just daudling along, that I clean forget the vaccine appointment. I have since bookd another appointent for this Saturday, tomorrow, so I will have to keep an eye on the time and make sure I get to the medical centre for the appointment.

4.15 p.m. The weather has changed dramatically. There is a strong wind raging, and they have named the storm Austen. Why? Goodness knows. Is it an Austen Mini, a Metro or whatever type of car. I doubt it.

I have now managed to print the first play I wrote, called 'Hiding In The Smoke.' I thought it was going to take almost all of the morning, but it took a little over 30 minutes, which, considering it is over 60 pages, seems a reasonable length of time.

Tuesday 27th October. 7.55 a.m. I have been having problems with my laptop, a MacBookPro. I have never had any real problems with it, but this one was quite substantial. I managed to print the play, as I mentioned earlier. But his started when the confounded 'Beachball Of Death' struck. I am referring to every computer user's nightmare, which is a constant revolving golden ball, which shows up when there's some sort of issue. I could not remove it, or get into any folder on the laptop. The only answer would be to return to the Apple store and hopefully, someone there would be able to resolve the situation.

I drove into the shopping centre and parked where I usually do, next to the scrap-heap which used to be The Point and then walked into Midsummer Place and landed up at the Apple Store. Unfortunately, I could not have an appointment immediately and the next available slot was in around an hour, so I had to go away and fill up an hour or so, wandering around the shopping centre. So, I did just that. Not easy for me to waste time like that, but I managed. It turned out that the computer had little or no memory left and they suggested shifting most of the stuff onto iCloud, which I have a subscription to. So, I had to sit and stare at the MacBook's screen as a good deal, if not all, the data was moved to iCloud. Around an hour later it was done (probably a good deal longer, but does it really matter.) I had to drive to Sainsbury's for a few items and then returned to Dexter House. This morning I have been removing further stuff onto iCloud and I have to say, the desktop looks far tidier and less cluttered and the MacBook seems to be running far better.

I have now printed out the second play and it is safely stored in it's own folder. That must be the quickest I have produced a play, from the concept to writing and then printing. It's the one I mention a few posts back, inspired by the woman who came into our Wednesday afternoon tea party and similar to 'Abigail's Party, created by Mike Leigh. I say 'created' because most of his plays are created by the cast, improvised during rehearsal. 

Wednesday 28th October. 1.10 p.m. My pension has not gone into my bank account this morning. Which puts me in a very difficult position. I have never had this happen before, and if I checked my account just after midnight, I would have had the money there, ready for me to go to Sainsbury's, as I have done more or less every week since I retired. I cannot think what has caused this situation, but I need it to be resolved quickly, otherwise I will be up the preverbial river without a paddle, or any other suitable expression.

Thurdsay 29th October 1.15 p.m. The pension I mantioned above wasn't mine. It was from Carol's Teacher's pension. I have found a telephone number on the internet and rung and it would appear that these payments are transferring to a new provider and this should be completed at the beginning of next week, so I am hoping and trusting that I will get paid as soon as this is completed. It would have been great if they could have informed me that this was about to happen. Just a quick text message, letter or even a telephone call, but nothing.

Learming New Things

 Monday 19th October. 6.25 p.m. Oh dear. My MacBook has been playing up! I had intended printing out the latest play I had written (more about that later.) I had bought the required ink cartridge from Argos, along with some paper, although there was a considerable amount still left in the drawer under the printer, but I didn't think it was a good idea to be short of paper, once the printer started. This play runs to a little over 90 pagers, so to run out in the middle of printing might cause problems. Then the MacBook refused point blank to cooperate and wouldn't open and I was left staring at a blank screen. What to do? The only answer was to go into the Apple store in Midsummer Place and ask someone to help resolve this very tiresome issue. I went in, having checked that the roads weren't closed off because of resurfacing, which is why I had the issue the other morning when I attempt4ed to go to Sainsburys.

So, I walked into Midsummer Place and then foundmmyself in the Apple store. You have to book an appointment and then, around ten minutes later an assistant was looking at the lqptop. He took it away and returned around 10 minutes later, having looked qt the battery and told me that the problem was caused by the external hard drive, which was taking power from the MacBook. So, not a problem at all, so I returned home to hopefully print the play, using the Canon printer.

As for the play, I will explain where the idea came from. I have told you about the Wednesday afternoon tea party in the communal lounge at Dexter House, which has become something of a fixture. A chance to have s natter and share thoughts about living in Dexter House. Well, for the past few weeks, a member of staff has been coming in. I think she is an SHO at another sheltered housing unit in Milton Keynes. She put me in mind of a character in a Mike Leigh play, probably the most famous one 'Abigail's Party' which stars Alison Stedman. She not only vaguely looks like a Mike Leigh character, she SOUNDS like one. So, I csame up with the idea of this woman, married to a small business, a back-street motor repair shop, and they live in the middle flat of a block of flats, and it's new Year\s Eve and they've prepared for a party, inviting friends to come and celebrate the newYear, with things ro eqrt, a buffet, lots to eat and then people stqrt tqlking. Well, that's the starting point, and it has just more or less written itself.

Tuesday. 20th October. 6.25 a.m. I had intended to begin this blog post diffrerently, which explains the title.

You may recall in an earlier blog post, how I detest cricket and football. I think I can now work out why this might be. When I was at school we played these games, and would go to the games field up a hill in Manton Lane in Bedford (which is now where Bedford Modern School was relocated in aound the 1970s.) It was a real trudge up that hil, usually in thick mud which clung to your boots. Then, at the top, in the middle of winter particularly, with wind whistling up from the ton below, chilling your bones and it took all your effort to stand up streight, shivering and covered in mud. I suffered really badly from cold, so it made life worse. Then, we would be divided into two teams, if we were about to play football, and in summer, cricket. Becauee I was so bad at playing the game, I inevitably got selected last. This didn't exactly make me excited to play either game. I know I was a lousy footballer, but running around on a muddy, extremly chilly piece of grass, dressed in shorts and short-sleeved shirt (I don't remember if those shirts had shoirt or long sleeves, to be honest.) and not really having the faintest idea how the stupid game was played, didn't exactly help.

I have got it! The bit about not knowing how the game was played! We were expected to go out on the fotballl pitch and launch into aropund 90 minutes of football, and understand all the rules, which end was your end, which was the goal you were aiming to kick the ball into, how to tackle someone who had the ball. Now, I have hit the nail on the head, for cricket and football. Why weere we never coached in how to play the game, to even be given some sort of tqlk about the rules? It seems that this was typical of a lot of topics in the 1960's and possibly earlier. Things were not made any easier because of my inability to kick a ball straight or not hit the cricket ball when one was lobbed at me. I think it might be the fqct that I should have been left-handed and was made (forced, more likely) to write and use my right hand. This, I believe, was normal practice in the 1960' and earlier. I would say it was, to make life easier for the teachers. If you had a child who was different, say, left-haanded, it would be more complicated. They wanted everyone to be identical. Well, I wasn't. 

It was the same in other areas of my life.I'm thinking, when I worked in stage management. We had to do a variety of jobs, operate the sound deck, which included making up show tapes, editing recording tape, then playing sound effects into the show, given cues to foloow, actually running the prompt corner, taking rehearsals, marking out the floor of the rehearsal room with coloured tape, operating the fly floor, the list goes on and on. My worst job was tieing knots, which might not seem important, but it was. I could never tie ropes to fly-fqrs, which were used to hqul up scenery, curtains or lighting. I don't ever remember being shown how to do thqt job. It would have been fqr more sense to show someone new how to do these jobs.

Thinking about all this, particularly knowing how to play sport, such as cricket or football, the fact that I never got any coaching, puts me in mind of putting on a play. You would never expect an actor or a group of actors, to go out on stage without rehearsals. It would never work, for  start. You havee to learn lines, the moves around the stage, entrances and exits, who goes where. The sae with the stage crew, you need to know how the whole play works, have the props sourced, arranged in the correct place, along with the sound and lighting cues. It's surely the same with playing a game of football or cricket, if you don't know how it is played, all the rules and regulations, how are you expected to give your best?

Annoying Roadworks and Troublesome Tech

 Thursday 15th October. 8.15 p.m. We had our usual Thursday Morning Lifegroup Meeting, and, when I got home I wanted to go shopping and drove to Sainsbury's. But things did not go to plan, becaue there is a great deal of roadworks going on around the area where Sainsbury's store is located. I had gone to the Mobil filling station in Childs Way and then on through the centre towards Sainsburys. driving along Avebury Boulevard, where I encountered a traffic blockage. I cannot fathom out what the roadworks are for and there were traffic cones along the road near Sainsbury's. What really annoys me is, they cone off large swaythes of road which you can't use, but no sign of workmen actually working. So why cone it off if there's no work going on? I drive into Sainsbbury's underground carpark and then discover that I don't have the token to release a trolley. Somehow or other this has disappeared from my key chain, where it has been kept for such a use, so that I always have one for use at any supermarket and meaning I don't have to scrabble around for a £1 coin. So it meant I had to drive all the way back to Dexter House to hopefully find another token. I had to make a detour around the town to get back to Dexter house and there I could not find  the second token for the shopping trolley. I decided to go to Aldi instead and it took a further detour to get there.

Having done my shopping in Aldi, I thought it a good idea to walk along the parade of units to Curry's, because I wanted to by a cable to plug into my MacBook so it can be charged. It's a good chance to have a browse and look at the latest tech.

Saturday 17th October. 5.15 p.m. Yesterday morning I couldn't get the laptop to open. All I got when I opened it up was a completely blank screen. So, you can imagine the total stress I was under, because all my work, all my plays, are stored on the thing, although I have been gradually copying much of this material onto the new external hard drive. I was totally dumbfounded, and did not know how to resolve the issue. It obviously meant I was unable to do any work on any of the plays. 

I had the idea that, if I took the Macbook to the Apple store in Midsummer Place, the shopping centre next to the main Milton Keynes shopping centre, someone in there would be able to help fix the problem of the Macbook refusing to open up. So, I left it, sitting on it's usual table, next to my armchair. It had plenty of power. On Saturday morning, I think mid-way through, the thing opened up. I have an idea what the problem was; it had over-heated and it closed down until it was cool enough to work properly. But, even then, it closed down, this time becuse it didn't hqve enough power! So, I left it to charge. Later, I ordered ink cartridges from Argos and went and collected the thing a few minutes later. This does make life easier. 

Monday Club

Tuesday 13th October. 3.40 a.m. I wasn't going to go to Monday Club at the Oaktreee Centre on Monday afternoon (strange that, it's called the 'Monday Club', and by coincidence, it's held on a Monday.), but, because I have been working so hard on my play-writing, I decided to go. On arrival, all the chairs were arranged in a circle, and my first though was, we could play musical chairs. You know, the kid's party game, where you sit in a circle, play music and, pass around a parcel, wrapped in many layers of paper, and whoever has the parcel,  when the music stops, has to rip off a layer of paper. When the last layer is removed, the person who has the parcel, wins the item inside.

I'm sorry to say, I am put off going to this over 60s group, basically because, all they want to talk about is, their hip-replacements, boils on their bum, bunions and being, frankly, just dead boring. Someone went on about, how cold it was getting. They had the heating on permanently and I suppose it is going to get colder, now we're in October. But I haven't got the heating on in my flat. Infact, this flat gets too hot, and I open the window open, to let the heat out. Well, if you're cold, move about a bit, go for a walk, do anything to get your blood circulating.

There is plenty of cake. Probably far too much. But, looking at the arrangement of the chairs, the idea of a play called simply 'Musical Chairs' comes to mind. Then, as the session continues, and a couple comes in and they hvae a small dog, I think a Pekenise, but whatever breed it is, it's small and they can carry it. Very friendly and loves being made a fuss of, just like Alfie. I have the idea for a new play, set in a similar club, held in a village hall, so I have the entire concept, so when I get home, I begin to develop the characters, writing it all in a large hard-bound notebook I forgot I had. Within barely an hour I have all the characters developed in note form and programmed into my Macbook Pro and act one completed. Even the little dog which I mentioned has a small part in this play, by now called 'Raising The Roof.'

I have now begun working on 'Musical Chairs' a second piece of theatre, sprung out of Monday Club. I don't think it's a full-length play, but probably a shorter piece, so it could be combined with other, shorter pieces, to make a full evening's worth of theatre. Fit probably for small-scale venues, with 200 seats or even less. So, to get two pieces of theatre from Monday afternoon is something of a miracle, so it goes to show, theatre doesn't have to be about big things, big issues, kings, rich people, but can be found in the smaller places, about those at the bottom of the pile, the grafters, those don't usually show up in the headlines, the back-room boys, and girls.

A Touch of Class

•  Friday 9th October. 6.40 p.m. We are now in autumn, or fall, as it is known in America. There is a definite chill in the air and I am putting my shorts away and now wearing my full length trousers.
• Saturday 10th October. 8.50 p.m. I am pleased to report that my first play 'Hiding In The Smoke' is now edited and is a complete document, ready for printing. It will need some further work, for example, making sure all character names are consistent, basically, because some of them changed durng the course of writing and some will need to be cut completely. Also, it is likely to run far too long, so some pruning will need to take place, otherwise I can imagine it running to close on six hours!
• Sunday 11th October. 3.45 a.m. Far too early to be sitting here, writing this, but so what? I am just bursting with excitement, and I should come down out of the clouds, but someone on Linkedin has communciated and says he might be able to assist in getting my plays edited and prepared for possible staging. I know it will be a very long and complex journey, but, after all my efforts, this could be the beginning of something truly awesome, so watch this space!
• He is part of a literary agency and connected to one of the big London schools of acting. I am not going to say any more at this stage, except to say I now have that feeling in my stomach, the old 'butterflies in the tummy'feeling, which I used to get when I did 'The Book' on shows, when I was a D.S.M., and the entire play was in my hands, the actors' prompting, setting of props, timing the show and generally in charge of the entire thing.

7.30 p.m. I am currently watching the Amazon series 'Clarkson's Farm.' We must be at around season 5, and it gets really interesting. I was intrigued by it, because of the location of Chipping Norton, because many of my mother's family came from around that area. I think I mentioned somewhere in these posts, referring to the Ascott Martyrs, a group of women who lived in and sround the Ascott-Under Wychood area of Oxforedshire, duirng 1873 and were sent to Oxford Gaol, because they dared to picket a field, when the locql fqrmer bought in cheqp labour. Chipping norton was very much central to the incident. 

I mentioned about my brothers in an earlier post. I don't know whether I mentioned I never worked for my father, nor became involved in the farm, not that I didn'tl ike the country life, but I don't think I could have worked with my two elder brothers. One reason would be that they were almost permanently bad tempered, and they could be quite unpleasant, never seemed to be in a good mood over anything amd, I honestly don't think I would hae wanted to be permanently moaned at and, frankly, when they weere in full flow, they could be quitye intimidating.

Lively Love Lunch

 Wednesdy 7th October. 6.10 a.m. Yesterday was another fine autumnal day, not too warm, but warm enough for me to continue wearing my shorts. Well, we may have moved officilly into autumn (Fall, if you're in America.) and I was waiting outside Dexter house, for the minibus to come and collect me for the drive to Wolverton, to  be part of the Love Lunch. It takes around 40 minutes for the journey, collecting other members who attend. I will say one thing, and thst is, I would never want to drive the minibus, because I would more than likely get lost, although, driving around Milton Keynes, even if you do get lost, you can always go to the next roundabout and then start all over again. Although, with a satnave, it can make it considerably easier.

I am still attempting to get my prostate exam. I have attempted to fill in the on-line form, but I have not been shown which is the correct way to do this and got s further telling off, in a text message, so this morning I shall drive cross Milton Keynes and visit Central Milton Keynes Medicsl Centre and confron the receptionist, and hopefully get the appointment.

10.05 a.m. I have been to the medical centre and I have returned and I have an appointment at 4.10 p.m. Which means that after this prostate exam (and there's no need to explain how this is done, but it's fairly obvious.) so that I can get whatever medication is necessary to slow down the number of times I have to run to the loo.

Then, on returning to Dexter House, I discover that we now have a new S.H.O., permanent and, as far as I can gather, working part time with someone else. I did like Vashti, but it would appear she is no longer coming back, for whatever reason. Having been a carer, I know what the work entails, but this is not a nursing home or a residential home, which were the types of homes I used to work in, so there aren't peple living here with special needs, such as autism, epilepsy or any type of leqrning diaability. I can't tell you this new S.H.O's name, but I'm sure we will learn soon enough. Perhaps he will be at the Wednesday afternoon tea party this afternoon.

8.45 p. m. I had to go into the mini Boots chemists next door to the Medical centre, to get the prescription made up and it was too much of a coincidence that the pharmacist was having his break, so they couldn't make up the prescription, so I had to go and sit in my car for twenty minutes or so, which wasn't a problem, so by the time I went back into the Boots brnch, they had the prescription ready and I could drive home.

It turns out tht a couple of residents of Dextrer House are moving out, one, Hilary, who has been quite instrumentl in getting some vital things done, including the regulr tea party on a Wednesday afternoon, and Dorothy, who has probably been here the longest and was here when I first moved in. I must have mentioned a certain male renant, who made such a fuss about Alfie barking when I used to take him out in the early morning. He went behind my back, and had contacted the houing manager at county hall, because the first I heard about this issue, was when the then S.H.O came to my flqt, to infofmed me thqt, if I didn't keep Alfie under control, he would ened to be rehomed. I took great offense at this, because all of this was done without my knowledge. If there had been a problem (which there wasn't, because Alfie only barked first thing, and only for minute or two.) and had spoken to me direct, instead of going behind my back, it could have been resolved far quicker. But, some people think they canawield some power over others, by taking matters direct to those in authority.

Sunny October!

 Sunday 4th October. 3.20 a.m. I am wide awake. I am shaved. I have had a cup of tea. I am listening to Andrew Neil  on a video on YouTube, discussing Andy Burman, our 'so called' Prime Minister, and the disaster that is coming, with the crazy level of borrowing and what he has said in a speech at the Labour Party conference which has ended in Liverpool. As a result if all of this, particulrly the fact that my megre pension (or rather the small amount I get from Carol's Teachers' Pension.) is now taxed, I am now a fully paid-up member of the Reform Party.  Burnham wants to have 'Bigger Government', which is, infact, reversing everything that Margaret Thatcher starterd, by privatising such utilities such as water, power, BT and a whole host more. It might not have been entirely successful, but why reverse everything that works, just because of Socialist dogma? Look what happens, every time we have a Labour government, they just wreck the economy of this country. I seem to remember, when Labour left government in, I think it must have been 2010, when David Cameron became Prime Minister, some civil servant left a message to the incoming government, probably in the Treasury, saying, something like 'sorry, there is no cash left.' 

Well, after all the above, my main bit of news is, I have virtually  completed the play I began just over a year ago, is now finished, apart from a bit of tidying up. It now has a far stronger ending (which I refuse to reveal.) So, once I can afford to buy ink cartridges for my Canon printer, I can then run off a copy so I can at last read the script  properly. Although it is great to be able to use word processing, it isn't that easy to read on a computer screen. Having said that, I find it better to read using my iPad. 

8.20 p.m. Well, that's it. 'Hiding In The Smoke' is now completed. I just need to buy those confounded ink cartridges for the printer and I can then print it off and put it in a folder and it will allow me to read it, as a 'hard copy'rather than via the computer screen.

Monday 5th October. 5.20 a.m. Here I am again, wide awake, fresh as ever. I can't sleep, so I might just as well add to this blog. I can't believe how many 'hits' it has had. 268 for today, so, if it's that number at 5.10 a.m., what figure will it have reached by midnight? It reached 2471 yesterday. The thing I want to know is this; why are they going to my blog? What is it that attracts them, did they find what they weere looking for and if so, why don't they at least leave a comment?

12.50 a.m. I needed to find an A.T.M. machine and take out £10, for various things I pay for. The nearest I could think of, which had a space to park the car, was at Morrison's, so I drove there and actually found a space directly in front of the A.T.M. Two actual machines and one had run out of cash, so I had to wait for the person using the other machine to finish, and I just made the remark 'typical state of things under our new 'so-called' Prime Minister, Andy Burman!' and it started  conversation which revealed the totql hatred of this clown of a 'Prime Minister' and how the country thad deteriorated under out wonderful Labour Government. Particularly how we are allowing illegal immigrants to come here, be given free housing, benefits and generally become parasitic, all at the British taxpayer's epense, while the government does nothing to stop these boats crossing the Channel.

Attempting to get an appointment to have my prostate examination, which was partially arranged at the last doctor's appointment.Let me explain the state of play over this matter. At the end of the appointment, the doctor gave me a slip, which I was supposed to give to reception, onto which they wrote a number, and then it was handed back and I was told to then go on line, this week and get the appointment. BUT, when you go on line, as this is now the only way you cn make  doctor's appointment, you have to fill in one of three boxes, which I did. I now get an email this morning, to inform me that I filled out the WRONG FORM! So, how am I supposed to know ehich is the correct one? So, by now I am seething, and about to blow a fuse, becaue of this stupidity. And they wonder why people loose their patience with the system and hurl abuse at the staff.

The number of hits up until now, as I write this post, is 2305. Why are so many people visitng this blog? 

6.00 p.m. I have mentioned my attempts to get a prostate exam done, but I had a text message informing me I had to fill in one of the wretched on-line forms on the CMKMCwebsite, which I did, and then, I got another email informing me IT WAS WRONG! This is driving me half insane (how tht works, I have no idea. I aiuppose if you can be fully insane, you can be half insane, but never mind.) But, if they never explain WHICH of the stupid windows on the website you're supposed to fill in, HOW ON EARTH are you supposed to know? This is just N.H.S. madness, and they wonder why patients loose their temper with staff. No wonder the N.H.S. has some sort of money pit. They keep asking more and more money, feeding it like some sort of rapacious dragon, endlessly devouring all before it, but never actually getting anywhere, and stqnding still, never improving. It isn't the actual service, the cqre, the quality of he nursing, but to keep throwing more and more down the hole in the ground, when it doesn't improve, seems senselsss.

I think I will have to go into the doctor's reception and sort this out, rqther thqn attempting to fill in the on-line form, and then get told off.

A New Day, A New Dawn

 Wednesday 30th September. 5.10 p.m. I have now purchased an external hard drive for the Macbook, with the idea of transferring any of the precious material, particularly the plays, onto it, so that if anything happens to the laptop, at least I have the plays safe. Well, it does make common sense.Having got the external hard drive, I could not understand why it did not appeqr on the computer's desktop, so I have been into the Apple store, and a lovely young lady showedme that these things don't show up on the desktop, and sre hidden in a different place in the computer, which has put my mind at rest.

I have never mentioned this before, partly because there has been no point, but I have four brothers, James, Robert, Andrew ans Sandy (Alexander). We have never been exactly close, but none of them have been anywher near me, comunicated by text, Facebook or other social media. I do have a sort of vague communication with Andrew, who lives somewhere near Kings Lynn in Norfolk. He sends me  Christmas card and will remember my birthday, which, by the way is 22nd October. He and his wife, Margaret, came to Carol and mine's wedding in 2007, and we went  to stay a weekend with them  a few years after we were married, but I have had absolutely no acknowledgement from them regarding Carol's death. Sandy, who, by the way, is gay, not that that bothers me, was invited to our wedding, but he made such a fuss, because we only invited him and not his partner, so he neve rcame. I am not expecting to get anything from any of them, nothing such as a present, or money, although I wouldn't object to anything. But it would be nice to be remembereed, to be supported, particularly when Carol was diagnosed, and even after she passed away, which was the worst time. But no, not a word, nothing. I think my mother would be shocked, but I cn see where this lack of communicstion and care comes from, because dad was like that. The old 'stiff upper lip' syndrom

New play written and ready for printing and then checking. It is called 'It Must Be Love', and yes, it is inspired by the Madness song, which will be used as its theme music.

I have now got the external hard drive working. There is written material on there I had forgotten about and so it's been a bit of a revelation to unearth quite a few pieces of writing that are actuallt quite good, so I can read them and possibly work with them.

My Canon Pixma printer needs ink cartridges installing before I can print any of my plays, but, since a double pack, which consists of  black and a coloured cartridge and costs around £45, I will have to wait, which is a real pain.

Saturday 3rd October. 10.10 a.m. I've been up and working on my writing, so, this isn't the beginning of the day for me. I am awake at 2.30, basically because I have to go to the loo, and getting back to sleep is unlikely. I have been watching the series 'Slow Horses' via Apple TV and it's somwwhat addictive. Gary Oldman as the thoroughly repulsive leader of the spies, Jackson Lamb, is amazing. He farts, burps, eats, looks, and probably smells disgusting, and breaks all the rules of any other spy drama or novel, and I think it's that which makes it so watchable. I have nevr been a fan of James Bond, basically becaue it is so corny. Spies are supposed to be furtive, lurking around in the background, secret, hidden. Bond is known by everyone, he is an unlikely spy, far too visable and in actual fact, the bond films are more fantasy than reality, which is why I love Slow Horses. The spies who have been relelegated to Slough House. The whole look and feel of the show has a film noir feel, everything is dark, in shadow, muted colours, quite the opposite of the brash, colourful world of Bond. I can thorougly recommend the show, now into it's sixth season, all episodes should be found of the Apple TV website, ready for streaming.