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crazy blogging



The last time I wrote my diary in bed I was unmarried; I may even have been single. Over a decade of keeping a journal collapsed as I let myself become delightfully absorbed in an affair that proved lasting – we’ve been married 13 years and have been together for 16.

Putting pen to paper is going to be quicker than this though. I can’t stand how slow this bargain basement laptop is – I wish I’d just found a way to get my iBook online.

Watched C.R.A.Z.Y. with Darlingest. I hadn’t twigged that it was in French with English subtitles – no worry. I can read (I ought to be able to understand the French as well). e enjoyed it. Reminded me of ‘Toto le Heros’ – the life story ofa quirky character.

More on this when I’m not aching to sleep.

An alcohol free day. My oh my. So rare. So unexpected. Will this last 48 hours? I had one of those ‘I hate being sober as I see what a failure I’ve been moments.’ I’m not a cosultant surgeon, a successful drama director, even a published writer. I’ve done noting amazing in sport. I don’t draw anymore. I don’t sing or play the guitar anymore. And with entries so rare and many of them like this I can barely call my self a diarist, let alone a blogger.

So Crazy.

My era, that’s why I had to see it. I never put on the makeup but I danced to David Bowie, strummed it all on a guitar ans sang to it too – more so than the Beatles or Elton John, the Bowie Songbook gave me my voice. I still have the guitar; I’ll have to have a session in the morning to cheer me up.

School by train

The car, vandalised a couple of weeks ago, is off the road for two weeks. We could hire a car, but to save money I am instead taking the train. It is proving time consuming and expensive, though a pleasant change that gives me a rare bit of exercise.

I need to see more films like CRAZY and read more too – the right stuff inspires me. I need a muse, someone to seduce. That used to be a great incentive to succeed.

The Time Telescope
The Photobooth
Ettie on the Western Front (Working Title)

Pete Meadows, the housemwaster of Winder when I was at Sedbergh had it right with me – I would need to give up a few things, to focus. Why couldn’t a parent have noticed this in me? Why not my father? At the time my goals were innocent enough – extra A’levels, a wide spread of interests and a CV that would take me to Oxford.


I read of the millions in bonuses that City Bankers will receive – some of them will be contemporaries from Oxford. A bonus of £2m or more for what?

The rich do get richer and the poorer get poorer.

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