Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Fascinating street update

This is only to re-assure Martyn that he missed nothing by not moving here (unless of course he has moved here, and I'm about to refer to him by accident ...) One of the members of The School of Stupid Parking may well be the newbies on the block, in which case perhaps they have an excuse. A couple of doors down from us the house was sold, around September. However, the new occupants are a complete mystery. But, I keep seeing one of the vehicles in the School of Stupid Parking hanging around there. They can't fit the estate-size car in their parking bay, but at least now they are now parking on the correct side of the road and not impeding the flow of traffic up and down the ski slope (aka street, except we haven't had much snow of late, but there you go). The newbies have been christened, by me, as The House of the Yapping Dogs. Yes, there's a couple of patently small dogs that bark away maniacally at certain times of the day, and the sound is newly coming from that direction. The fact that the School of Stupid Parking car has a dog? cage in the back has led me to put two and two together, doubtless to make five. Ah, it's all go round here. What is our house known as I wonder? The House of the Strange Recluse, probably.

I'm working at the Small Museum on Sunday, and the Saturday after. Apparently this may be a fairly regular thing. It's strange how the things I go into with no expectations (volunteering was really all I thought I would do, and it was enough to put that on my cv) tend to work out, after a fashion. And yet those where I go in hell-for-leather, putting huge amount of effort in, working all hours that god sends, etc., just don't flower whatever I do. It's almost if I don't aspire to it, I get it (a spectacular example is Batman; I never even thought about a partner and took it as read that I would troll through life on my own). But if I do aspire to it, I sure as heck aint gonna get it (vaguely consistent good health, archaeology, and latterly some nice library work).

I shall have to cultivate a goodly lack of aspiration regarding creative writing. The trouble is, the moment one sets pen to paper (or finger to key) surely that means there's some aspiration going on? Perhaps not. I've already given it a very low priority due to the lottery nature of getting things published. So maybe I'm getting there. When I have totally smothered any expectation, I will be able to venture forth with a light heart and do as I please, without worrying about publication or some such.

Cripes, I've got an article to write, so I'd best get to it.


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