The best things about wearing a basque.

That's a title that grabs the attention of a certain type of man!

Apparently the Google ads that run the adverts on this site have decided that my last post about Radio 1 means that adverts for 'noise and vibration experts' are obviously all to do with what I was talking about. Actually I've been watching the adverts change over the last week or so with some degree of amusement. Many of my early posts were about my writing; that was the idea behind the blog as part of the website originally.

So obviously the adverts talked about books and publishing - how predictable. But the blog started to branch out a little into other everyday aspects of my life, because I decided that no-one really wants to read about an Author blowing their own trumpet at every opportunity. It just makes them sound like a smug arsehole (and let's see what the software picking the adverts makes of that term. 'Smug arsehole'. There. typed it again).

Now I seem to talk about alsorts, and the adverts have been reflecting this, er, in some way. I talked about radio, and adverts for radio stations came up. I talked about underwear and suddenly it seemed that M&S larger sized knickers and skimpy Anne Summers' tat was all the rage.

And that brings me neatly round to what I actually planned to be typing when I was about to start this post. I was out last night to a hen night. It is the first time I have ever been to one of these things, and I must admit that I was more than a little curious beforehand as to what they involved. I had visions in my mind of drunken women cavorting on tables in their underwear and hunky strippers grinding their way through the crows. Obviously not my cup of tea.

Actuall, the invitation did shed light on the matter: a minibus to Manchester for a meal at the Olive Press restaurant and a night out at the Birdcage club. Of course, the Birdcage was billed as a club with caberet act consisting of drag performers. Oh. Again, not my cup of tea. I had visions of 'Priscilla Queen of the desert' and it wasn't pretty.

The truth, in fact, turned out to be somewhat better, though the drinks were extortionate and the club was very crowded to the point that it became uncomfortably hot and sweaty. Note to self: vinyl fake leather seating sucks in a a strappy short frock when you get a little hot. I should have remembered the childhood memory of sticking to the back seat of an Austin Princess (aka 'the wedge of cheese') on hot days.

The performances were well choreographed though the tendency of the lead performer to constantly adjust themselves in the naughty bits area was a little odd. Maybe it got laughs? I didn't notice them. Some of the background performers were very cute though; there were two men and four women who seemed to be the sort of background chorus girls and boys in each act.

In between the acts there was time for dancing on the stage, and I must admit that I got down and strutted my funky stuff more than a couple of times. The place was teeming with women on hen nights and birthdays. It was like being in a cloud of drunken Oestrogen. At first it seemed like it was a women's only club, but then I started spotting little groups of seedy men. I got the impression they had only come because it was a club largely filled with girls and they were desperate to get laid. How can you lose, after all, in a sea of Oestrogen? Quite easily, seems to be the answer. I got hit on by two, and despite me cuddling up to my partner at the time, they thought they were in. How they reached that conclusion I do not know. They decided to try and sit at our reserved table (we were in the VIP area) and we only got rid of their sad jangling hormones by blanking them completely. Oh the British way! Any other nationality of girl would have told them to "F**k off!" without the stars. Sometimes I'm just too poilte.

The sound system in the club was deafoning, and it gave Zoë a bad headache. By the time we got home we were ready for bed. It's this point in the night where the highlight of my wearing a basque and stockings under my posh frock comes. No, you dirty minded pervert not that! For the best thing about wearing a basque is the taking it off at the end of the night. It is such a liberating feeling! As much as a basque may give you a figure to die for, they are at their heart an uncomfortable garment to wear for more than thirty minutes.

And that leads us back nicely to the very first point I talked of in this entry. What do we think the software will make of that to 'tailor' the adverts to the relevence of the content? My money is on 'basque' being the word picked up, but wrongly. Spanish tapas anyone?

Scotland bound and a new improved rusty screwdriver

Further to my last post, it seems the quality I experienced last weekend on Radio 1 was a one-off. It would seem that those people who work on the weekend during the day are not the same as those who provide the 'entertainment' (and I draw your attention to those quotation marks surrounding the word) during the week.

I managed around thirty seconds of having the rusty screwdriver effect return and start jabbing me in the eardrum. I mean, seriously, who listens to this shite? Even the DJ sounded unconvinced that the rubbish he was playing was any good. Has the controller of Radio 1 just given up on attracting an audiance? No-one I know listens to this music (it was a cross between techno and bad gangsta rap) and I have never heard it coming from a shop, other radio station, or even peoples' homes and cars. In short, no-one appears to listen to this stuff, yet they still waist valuable peak evening airtime polluting the airwaves with it.

Now I'm a pretty into music kind of girl. I often joke with people that there are only two types of music: good and bad; and every track has to be listened to at least once to decide which catergory it falls into. My record collection is vast and extensive. One of the biggest problems I find in record shops when browsing the racks, is already having 99% of the albums and singles that are worth buying. I remember attracting admiration from other DJs at Radio Bolton, Purple FM and Chorley FM that I just seemed to have available to me a copy of, well, everything. In some ways I did. But I certainly don't have anything of what Radio 1 seems to have been playing all yesterday afternoon and evening (I tried tunign across several times just to make sure) because quite frankly it was surprising that any record label can make any money from that noise.

Gosh. I sound old when I rant about music like that, don't I? I found an old demotape in the glove compartment of my car yesterday afternoon. I was waiting for Zoë whilst she was in an interview for a management job that I had taken her down to in Irlam. I killed the time by rummaging in the recesses of my car. Well, this tape cassette turned up. I put it on, and it was weird to hear snippets of radio programmes from way back in late 2004/early 2005. The tape was one that I tended to take to the studio and record a feed off the desk just so that I could take bits off it if I wanted to update my showreel (the radio/television equivelent of a portfolio/CV).


When Zoë returned (and she had done very well at the interview, by the way), I played her some. It was so weird to hear myself on the radio after so long when I just haven't bothered to dig anything out and listen. One thing I will say though, is that I had a good taste in music. It sounded so like the Radio 2 playlist. Gosh! I'll blow my own trumpet!

I went to a place called (looks up on Google Earth to ensure the spelling is correct) Lesmahagow. It was a lovely trip, and I felt a lovely glow of happiness inside me as I sat at the truck stop off junction 10 of the M74 and watched the sunset whilst chatting on my phone to Zoë. I did resist the urge to go in and have a fry-up (they know their market!) which smelt gorgeous, but I have a waistline to think of and keep in shape. Hey! It's really hard being a woman, you know! I have to stay looking good for those posh frocks and bikinis whereas for men no-one cares about the cliffhanging belly. The closer I get to thirty years old, the harder it seems to get to keep my figure keen.

In addition to the management rôle yesterday that she interviewed for, Zoë's portfolio has been passed over to an agent who specialises in getting work for top level copywriters and graphic designers. He is a client of my Father's business, so it's good to pull a few connections. Remember kids, in the media it isn't what you know but who you know. I've been able to get to know a few big name journalists over the years, and I'm never too shy to ask for favours, because this industry is too hard to get through without them.

Hopefully this might get her the kind of work that she would really love to do. I have my fingers crossed for her. Her work is excellent and I recommend a trip to her website at the end of this link. I also recommend a trip to the life of Nob T. Mouse which I help her a little on generating script ideas for. She has the talent to go far.

Decline of driving standards.

I've been noticing for a long while now that the general standard of driving is declining on Britain's roads. So many people, especially on motorways, have no understanding of the rules of the road and of driving with due care and attention. Lane discipline is a big problem area, as is reading of approaching hazards. But the biggy is not knowing how to join the motorway from the slip road.

I've seen more and more car drivers running at less than twenty miles per hour at the end of the slip road waiting for a gold plated invitation to join traffic. What kind of a baffoon thinks joining motorway traffic running at speed from nearly stationary is a good idea? Why don't they locate that little pedal on the right and actually pick a gap and match speed with it before safely merging with traffic? You know, that little pedal goes all the way to the floor. I know because I have tried it. You'd be amazed what poke even a small engined car has if you drive it correctly and with confidence.

Elsewhere on the road, the number of people who have no idea of filter lights on traffic lights and lane discipline on roundabouts. So many idiots seem determined to endanger other road users and wreck their car by turning right from the left hand lane.

So many people do not show the skill to be on the road. Cars are dangerous tools in the wrong hands, and driving should be treated as a privelage and not a right, and it must be earnt. It came as little surprise to learn then of the number of professional driving test sitters being exposed, being paid by incompitant idiots to sit their test for them.

There needs to be harsher penalties for driving without a legitamate licence or people will get killed by incompitance in ever increasing numbers

And what, pray, should I wear on the bottom?

Something I've been noticing for a while is that French knickers seem very hard to buy these days. It used to be the case that they came in sets with camisoles. After all, you need something on the bottom to keep the naughty bits decent and warm if you are going to wear a camisole on the top.

Then about eighteen months ago I stopped being able to find them. I could still find camisoles for sale, but not the matching French knickers. Today when looking in BHS, I discover that there too the knickers are conspicuous by their absence. What is becoming of the World of underwear?

Help the Aged.

Today I've been mistaken for Zoë's sister for the second time. It's rather weird, as our families couldn't be less related if we tried.

The first time, really the people should have known better. We were at Zoë's sister's wedding, and some of her relatives actually sidled up and struck up a conversation in which it quickly became apparent that they thought I was Zoë. How strange. I had to politely point out their error, but it did leave me wondering whether we were alike.

Today it was a cashier in the Co-op as we were buying such essentials in life as bogroll. In some ways I find the implications something to wonder about. You see, whilst two people have made it plain now that they thought we were sisters because we looked alike. That may well mean that a lot of other people thought it but never voiced it.

Does this mean that I am attracted to myself? Actually, we look at each other and in the mirror and know that in our minds we are completely different. But there are similarities, I suppose. It almost goes a little way towards the dangerously Freudian territory of fancying Mothers. Well, luckily I'm not there yet.

New and improved noise.

I've been listening to Radio 1 today, I'm ashamed to admit. Well, actually I'm not.

You see, once upon a time when I was about thirteen, I used to only ever listen to Radio 1. Most people did; it was the most listened to station back then. Of course, a downhill spiral happened with rubbish DJs, all the old and good DJs disappearing and the music becomming so bad it was out of touch with what people were actually listening to. In short, Radio 1 became akin to having a rusty screwdriver jabbed in your ear repeatedly.

Their listening figures plummeted. At the same time I discovered Radio 2, and found that was were all the good Radio 1 DJs had gone. No longer was Radio 2 the preserve of the Derek Jacobs-esc DJ playing obscure dross from the 50s and 60s, but instead was like Radio 1 when Radio 1 was good; they played the good stuff that people wanted to hear.

Of late though, Radio 2 has begun to slide again. I suppose everything comes in cycles. In the evenings and at the weekends it is quite bad, and I've become fed up and started tuning around. I hate commercial stations with their manufactured and cloned sound and cheesey adverts. Radio 4 was okay at times, but frequently punctuated by boring radio plays that are neither funny nor interesting and obscure documentaries on the three-toed woppit (okay, I made that one up, but you get the picture). Radio 3 was okay, but seemed to try and pretend to be Radio 4 at the boring times a lot. The presenters too had something about them that made classical music seem dreary. I found Classic FM, and despite being a commercial station, I liked its more popularist classical vibe.

Then I discovered, with trepidation, where Radio 1 still lurks on the dial. The music was actually quite good. In fact, for three hours it was very good playing stuff as diverse as 808 state, Metallica and the Shamen.

I could be ashamed to admit that I actually enjoyed three hours of Radio 1. Could this be the re-emergance of Radio 1 as the radio station to listen to again? We shall see. At any rate, I feel secretly young all over again!

Time flashes by and time for a change

I seem to have neglected this blog, and I firmly believe this is due to an ever increasing workload. I'm hard at work on another draft of "Countdown to Extinction" and have been busy sending out tons of things to magazines and the like. I've also been hard at work on the 'day' job and never seem to have a minute to myself.

I suppose that's modern life for you. So many things and so little time to do them in. I've been very creative this year, so I suppose I should not worry too much about easing off a little for a couple of months. Let's face it: there are many things taking up my time between organising a wedding and several other social commitments. There just aren't enough hours in the day.

The 'day' job is starting to get a little flakey. There just isn't the overtime that there was, and I seem to be forever chasing the work now rather than it coming to me. I've talked with my agent about moving over to different areas, and they're in agreement that this might be wise and they're going to look into a client down further south. It means the end of being able to walk to work, but sometimes a change is good. I get bored easily doing much the same thing in the same place so I sort of welcome a change. Apparently, I'm told, the 15th of Septemeber is the magic date when they can pretty much guarentee placing me with another client. What a coincidence: that's the official release date, if I remember correctly, of my newest book. A new job in time for the big official release of book number six on the World would make for interesting times.

I've been thinking about children's books of late. I've spent a lot of time revisiting my childhood with acquiring copies of the Arthur Ransome Swallows and Amazon books (there are twelve - I have them all now), and a multitude of Enid Blyton. There is something about good children's books; they are timeless and always a good read regardless of age of the reader. Unfortunately I cannot say the same of most children's books being buplished in this day and age. Instantly forgettable most of them are. It led me to wonder whetehr I could add another genre to those which I have written in. I fancy trying my hand at tales of the Summer holidays with boats and ginger beer and the innocence of youth where every day was a collossal adventure. It is certainly something that I am more than idly looking into.

Yesterday I spent the day with a very good friend who I haven't seen in person for a long time. She came down on the train from Preston and we went out for a meal at a local restaurant followed by a girls' afternoon in chatting over a bottle of wine (the best way of course!). We must do it again some time. For a change the weather actually perked up. For the last couple of months you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain was in the midst of Monsoon season, but the last two days have brightened up and are looking rather nice. However I suspect on a bank holiday weekend some fool will jinx it all by wheeling out a barbecue and lighting it up in their garden. There is no known better way for making it rain.

Ahhh! Bright light! Bright light!

The job I've been doing on nights has suddenly turned up a surprise occurance. Due to a change in shift patterns for at least one week, I've ended up on days. That will be strange; people on the roads and the shops being open as I go past. Of course, that also means rush hour traffic, and I hate that. It's been a long time since I worked during the day anywhere other than in front of my computer keyboard doing my writing. Still, it may yet only be for this one week.

Too much music in the soul.

I seem to have developed a nasty habit of late of accidentally buying the same albums multiple times. Why? Because I seem to have reached a point where I simply forget what I already have.

I used to work on radio as a presenter for around eight years. Over that time I inevitably acquired quite a large record collection. In fact, even after I pruned it down to move to Durham, and then again to move it back to Bolton, it still fills one wall of our lounge. Most of it is on LP, but there are also CDs, 7" and 12". Recently I bought three 7" singles off Ebay. I was certain that all three were ones that I didn't have. Well, when I came to file them I discovered that one of the three had a nice happy duplicate already sat on the shelves. Today I've been to a charity shop and bought three LPs and a 12". Would you believe it that one of the three LPs also had a duplicate sat in my collection when I came to file it. I also bought a Supertramp LP thinking I didn't have anything by that group. Turns out I did have one LP; luckily it was a different one to that which I bought, but it could easily have been another duplicate.

One of these days I ought to sort out and get rid of all the duplicates. There must be nearly fifty duplicates in there, and as I'm running out of space, the little extra room would keep me in shelf space for maybe another couple of weeks! Well, maybe not: I'm not that bad anymore. There used to be a time though when my collection expanded by around thirty singles and a dozen albums in a week because of the promo lists I was on. I'm not on them any more, but it was good whilst I was. My Postman hated me though!

Say, that's a nice head....

I always find it odd when I get headhunted for a job. It happens maybe half a dozen times a year, and is usually because of my past work in the media and broadcasting, though sometimes other management jobs come up. I've never accepted one yet, though that's not to say that I never would.

Today's emails brought yet another one. I'm being headhunted by a company in Consett, near Durham. I guess they haven't realised that I moved from Durham about ten months ago, but it's nice that they thought of me. The money is actually really good for a job in the North East, but is still less than what I get at the moment, so that's one reason (other than the fact I just moved away from the North East) for turning it down.

It's a curious feeling to be singled out for a job without ever applying for it. It gives me a lovely glowing feeling of being wanted. It's at times like this that I, toungue in cheek, tell Zoë that: "I'm so great, they should just give me a medal." Quite.

Laying down the (underwear) lore.

I've been debating merits of underwear (don't ask because you won't be answered!) and it seems that there is a big divide between those who wear boring cotton panties and plain t-shirt bras, and those who don't. I always find it as odd the number of women who seem almost scared of actually owning and wearing nice underwear. It's one of those things that women get an advantage ovger men in: our underwear can be just so much better.

I find the plain underwear brigade quite strange. Especially when they complain about having boring underwear (bear with me - these conversations do exist on other parts of the internet!). So why don't they just go out and buy some better stuff? I've seen the relevent shops in the high street. Heck, I've even shopped in them.

When I was little my Mother always used to try and inspire me with confidence about leaving the house by calling out: "Have you got decent underwear on? You never know when you're going to be run over by a bus." How inspiring. That really makes me want to leave the house. Do I care what my underwear looks like if I've just been squashed by a bus? And if I have been squashed, is my underwear really going to still look so good regardless of what it looked like before?

Still, it made me make an effort, such was the impressionability of the early version of me. Ever since my teens, I've always owned matching sets, and woe betide me ever wearing non-matching underwear. You're allowed to admit you like lacey and complicated underwear if you're a woman? I thought that was the deal? So over time I grew to like three part sets a lot, along with basques and French knicker/camisole sets. I wear them because if you are going to wear underwear you might as well make an effort and have fun over it. Even though pretty much most of the time no-one ever sees it, it still makes me feel better to know that I'm wearing the sexiest and nicest smalls within two hundred feet.

It still amazes me when other women just don't know how to make an effort. It isn't hard: start in Contessa and work your way from there.

A little change goes a long way

There's been a few little things on the website that have been a filler from when pages were put up that until now I haven't got around to sorting out. One of these was the biography page. I was supposed to provide a sample to the web designer building the site, but missed the deadline so she just rote in the 1,000 ninjas thing for a joke. However as some jokes do, this one stuck for a little longer than expected. Actually I like the little tale of the ninjas. But a real Biography was needed. So as of today, there is a new Biography page that leads off the original ninjas one which I decided was too good to delete! There are some new pictures on here, which as opposed to the ones on the photography pages are more relaxed ones taken at home, events, and caught off guard in the net-model photoshoot. I rather like them.


Other changes have happened, and I've talked about the new short story in the Portfolio section in another specific post. There have also been changes on the Photo albums as there was one picture I hated, so have replaced, and added two more. They're still going to raise an eyebrow, but hey! I have an interesting sideline as a model so bite me.

The Booth

The website has been updated at last, and I've a few new things to mention. For the sake of neatness, these are going to be done in seperate posts.

Firstly, there is a new short story on the Portfolio section of the website. It's been nearly a month since I last put a story up here, so I thought this little short one would do. It's called The Booth and is a sci-fi flash fiction piece.

The idea behind it is the progression of narcotics along with the steady march of technology. At the end of the day, with virtual reality and better means of interaction with computers, who is to say that the line between narcotics and computers won't become blurred?

You could say that "Better than Life" from Red Dwarf has had some influence, and I would have to agree at least in part that the basic idea is going to be common to a few things. And yes, I have read "Better than life". But this is something more rooted in the tangible technological advances extrapolated into the future. At any rate, it was a short idea that seemed to work okay.

See what you think.

A third, a third and a third makes a lot of books.

I'm having a great time going through books and DVDs. It's actually amazing how many books the average person buys and never gets around to reading. Is it a little scary for me to admit that I estimate nearly a third of all books I have bought I have not even tried to read? I would also say that a further third of the books I have bought have turned out to be utter crap that I could not get into so have also not been read beyond, at most, the first couple of chapters. Given that I do own thousands of books, that means that there is a huge number of books that are just taking up shelf space and that I have little or no idea about what is contained within them.

So I've been investigating some of these ignored third. So far I've tried to read "Dancers at the end of time" by Michael Moorcock. I have to admit it isn't gripping me, despite my having been very impressed by his book "Behold the man". It just goes to show that even the greatest author's might have 'off' days. I also started reading "Jem" by Frederik Pohl. Now this is a book with more promise. I'm also looking forward to delving in to a trio of unread Philip K. Dick books. Though, going off previous experience, one will be great, one will be okay and one will be unreadable on average. Still, one out of three isn't too bad, and hey, I might get lucky and get three good ones.

On the DVD front I've been watching the A-team just for a little escapism. It provides almost no inspiration to my creativity, but I like it. I do want to see what sci-fi and fantasy films I can go through from our vast collection. Maybe over the next few days I'll find a few. Also other genres can provide some very interesting stuff with good dialogue and the like which I also find good to watch.

I've had a rearrangement of furniture upstairs in our house. The comfy chair (nothing to do with the Spanish Inquisition!) has been moved from my office into our bedroom. This means that my office is huge again with a lot of open carpetted area. I rather like it. I'm thinking of getting something like a bean bag, perhaps, to go in the middle and provide me a 'thinking chair'.

And finally, our little cat finally ventured into the back garden almost all the way to the gate for the first time today. She has been a house only cat since being a kitten (not my idea) and is the bossiest cat there is within the confines of the house. However she is a scardy cat when it comes to anything a little different. However, it is a good sign that she is becomming more comfortable with the idea that there is something beyond the front and back door. Hopefully in time she can be introduced to the outside World on a more regular basis.

Mojo recharging while-you-wait

It struck me the other day whilst watching the new Batman film in the cinema, that perhaps what I have been lacking is inspiration with my writing. Let me explain: it is said that all writers who are good writers should actually read far more books than they write. This is very true. Writing is a job, like any other, and you get better at it both with practice but also by seeing how other people do it.

When I write stuff, I have in my head an image of the scenes and charectors that I want to write that is not dissimilar to a sort of cinama projection of the work all acted out and on location. I suspect that other authors are much the same. That's why watching films can be as good inspiration as reading. Of late though I just haven't had the time to do much reading or watching, and I think this has been to the detriment of my creativity. The books I have been reading have been the full set of Arthur Ransome's "Swallows and Amazons" series (there are about twelve books in the series, and personally I find the first one boring, but the others marvellous). It's all very well to read what are excellent children's books, but I do not write children's fiction. I really need to have a read through some of the sci-fi masterworks books I have sat on the shelves downstairs.

However, I do find that some books can be very subjective indeed. The sci-fi masterworks are a set of books numbering 71 at the time of writing that are supposedly the best ever sci-fi books written. But so many are stilted, waffly and downright boring to read. I guess some sci-fi does not date well, but on the other hand not everything that is considered a 'classic' by the in-crowd necessarily is all that good. So many people, for example, cannot stand Macbeth by Shakespeare. "The English Patient" as a film is the most mind-numbingly boring film according to all those I know who have seen it.

That's not to say they are all bad; far from it. Some are the most outstanding books I have ever read. "Rendezvous with Rama" by Arther C. Clarke, "Behold the man" by Michael Moorcock and "Flow my tears the Policeman said" by Philip K. Dick to name but three are truly outstanding. However I still cannot finish "Blood Music" by Greg Bear and "The forever War" by Joe Haldeman is dire in my opinion yet is number one in the series. How does that work?

I think I need to settle down and watch a few DVDs if I get some time to myself. I should also but aside for a while my own writing work and spend a week doing nothing but reading other peoples' work. In that way and only that way I suspect I can 'recharge my mojo'

Of progress and the boom/bust cycle of creativity.

Today is a rare thing these days: a day off! I cannot believe just how quickly time marches on. Unfortunately, there hasn't been all that much in the way of writing. You see, writing, like the economy, has its own boom and bust cycle. I've always found it this way. As far back as I can remember, there have been periods of my life of intense creative productivity, and periods where very little at all happens on my computer other than reading the internet (and there's a lot of it to read!)

This year, all things considered, has been very productive so far. I've had around seven months of intense creativity culminating in: one book written from start to finish; a second draft of aforementioned book; a revised edition of another book; more than a dozen short stories. On top of this list, I've also been helping Zoë with scripting two different comics, and am rather pleased with a couple of the scripts I gave her the ideas for. Of course, "All over the house" has yet to appear in public properly as a syndication deal is still being sought. The life of Nob T. Mouse has, however, been appearing very regularly, and I'm pretty proud of Zoë's hard work and dedication. I like to think that in some small way I am helping her keep her productivity up.

So what of the very near future? I'm sort of in limbo around 3,000 words into another long short story (is there officially such a term?) and it has all but stopped for the moment as I take a break. I have a little editing to do, and a revised edition of "Countdown to Extinction" procedes slowly. But for now, I feel that a little bust period has appeared in my creativity. Not to worry - there's always another week. If I can get another book well on its way before the turn of 2009 then I'll be happy.

Is daydreaming tax deductable and other stories.

I've been really busy the last few days, which has rather kept me from updating this blog. However, I am at least content in the knowledge that this must mean that I have a life beyond the computer screen! All too often in this day and age is it easy to reach a point where you realise all your 'friends' may as well be living inside your computer for what you actually see of them. So many people have online friendships these days without ever or rarely seeing the person in question.

I'm in the development stage of writing work at the moment. That's the bit I'm sure I mentioned a while ago on here, where a lot of time is spent staring at the ceiling and in effect daydreaming. It's how plots and storylines are developed, and it is a legitamate enterprise for any writer to spend hours just mulling stuff over in their minds. The bigger question though is: "Is this time tax deductable?"

I've been travelling a lot of late. This week alone I've been to Enfield and back in North London twice as well as Bicester all in just three days. That's a lot of mileage, especially as on the first trip to Enfield I drove just shy of 500 miles that night. Out on the roads I am appalled at the lack of intelligence or skill of a large number of drivers. Is it me or have standards dropped like a stone? Favourite crap driving techniques include leaving headlights on full beam and fog lights on so that it is rather like being passed by the Star ship Enterprise. I've taken to flashing my headlights at these prats in a hope I can dazzle them back. Or at least get them to shut down their extra lights. Middle lane hogs - these people are as low as estate agents. Driving at 50mph mile after mile hogging the middle lane oblivious to the traffic chaos their selfish incompitance causes. And finally, the tosswits who drive slowly until a vehicle pulls out to overtake. They wait until the new vehicle is alongside then speed up to avoid being overtaken. Then they slow down when the overtaking vehicle gives up. People with this level of selfish lack of driving skill really should be banned for life from driving. There are too many idiots who drive like they are the only person on the road.

I believe there should be a seperate and rigerous test to allow drivers on the motorways. I've been saying this for over ten years. Quite clearly so many people have no clue of how to drive safely without endangering other people around them that a seperate licence is necessary before people are allowed on the motorways. I've seen too many people injured by the criminal incompitance of others on Britain's motorways.