Monday, 13 July 2009


You’d think that disappointment would become
Much easier to cope with down the years,
But no it does not, for it can still numb
All hope, and turn ambition into tears.
“would you be interested? Are you free?”
They ask, “Oh yes” I answer eagerly,
“A telly episode, there’ll be a fee,
But nothing’s certain, we’ll ring back, we’ll see.”
And from that moment on, I think I know,
And disappointment greets me like a shroud;
No phone call, but I must not let it show,
I must keep going, laugh, forget the cloud.
Yes, it still hurts, yes it still dents the pride,
Rejection is so difficult to hide.

Written in a disappointed rush

Sunday, 12 July 2009

I take my hat off (though I rarely wear one, I have to say) to the successful, even moderately successful short story writer. I am in the middle of a writing course, and foolishly thought that short stories would be an easy way to earn money. Alas, how wrong I was, and I still am.

I am not quite ready to admit that I can't do it, or that it's not for me. I'm at the angry stage now, where I an swearing at it and calling it all the names under the sun nad am doggedly determined to master the "genre", (for some reason or other I really don't like that word) but so far without success. I don't like admitting defeat, but before I do, let me say to all those who have succeeded in gething their short stories published, thank you and keep going. I love reading them

Friday, 3 July 2009


Well, now I seem to have got it all set up, I feel rather as if I'm talking into a tape recorder for the first time in my life. What do I say? What do I write? "testing, testing, one, two, three, four." I can't keep writing that all the time, can I To be honest, I feel a tad silly and terribly self conscious. Well, I suppose I'll get into it given time. It's just that it feels so...public
Someone here where I live is laying bets on who will be the first inmate to go down with swine flu. I think it's Mildred. She loves gloom and doom does Mildred. Thrives on death and funerals. I'll swear she once ran a book on who would be next to pop their clogs.