I should hope so!

Away from the main street

This afternoon the local market was packed. Trying to do a weeks food shop with awful people shoving me out of their way isn't my ideal Saturday but it made me smile to see this lone table and chairs set up in the middle of a quiet back street. Solitude and a piece of cake. Yum.

Little camera (charger) lost

UPDATE: The elusive camera charger has been found! 

Credit to Oliver who discovered it amongst the electic wire box. Why didn't I think of looking there?

Love from Moominmamma

After spending the afternoon wondering aimlessly around the shopping centre not being able to buy anything as it's all too expensive, I decided to treat myself to a new book. Usually when I end up in a bookstore I go to one of three sections.

1. Cult fiction

2. Poetry 

3. Arts & Crafts

I browsed, not seeing anything interesting, but then I got dragged into the kids section. Okay, so I wasn't exactly dragged. Really, I was checking out the competition in writing children's books. But there it was...Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson, one of a series of stories. I think what I love about them most are the illustrations. Of course it helps that it's under £5...

The Last Time I Saw Joni

Joni Mitchell is the inspiration, in part, for the screen play I'm working on at the moment. The idea that's driving me forward with this script is the image of a young woman who has a mental illness in the 60s and who idolises Joni Mitchell. It's one idea that has formed with another. Not entirely sure where it's going, but when do I ever know when I first start a piece of work. We'll see what my lecturer has to say about it tomorrow when I workshop it. Cross your toes.

Little Camera Lost

Or little camera charger lost to be more precise. I desperately want to take some pictures but the fate of my charger has me seriously confused. 

Under the chair?

Beneath the pile of washing?

Amongst my knitting stash?

It is well and truely lost.

Some call me lucky...

others, names I can't repeat. The reason? My dissertation is not one that most students get to undertake. While the rest of the third years hammer away at their academic and research based dissertations I get to leisurely write the beginning part of a novel, 10,000 words to be exact. Except it's not leisurely. It's not even easy. They have a hammer and a chisel; I have nothing but a toothpick and a stale piece of gum. I've spoken to several people who gave the impression that I was lucky. Hell! I get to make the whole thing up after all. So excuse me for feeling a little put out when I complete it and then have to re-write it 59 million times before I can even begin thinking about handing it in. 

For the last week I've had something similar to writers block, only it's not quite the same. I can write, but the quality isn't there. Nothing reads well and it's starting to really grind on me, especially since I have a tutorial with my dissy tutor tomorrow and I have nothing new to show her. Nothing of any worth any way. Maybe now would be a good time to emmigrate to New Zealand.