Where the Hell have you been?

Hello – I just thought I’d write a quick note to explain my distinct lack of effort recently.


A 5 minute photo shop session in the style of a corporate motivational PowerPoint slide, and a badly copied clip from the news are pretty much all I’ve managed in ages, so I thought I’d better apologise.

I’m not lazy – just distracted.

First of all we spent a long weekend away up North visiting some very good friends, who turned out to have a rather interesting collection of cheese and wine. Then we popped over to see my family, and spend some quality time with the olds.

This was mighty nice, but not very conducive to responsible blogging, due to the distinct lack of Internet usage.

Anyway – that’s not the only problem.

The other problem is that I’ve got into reading again. Actual books!

I’m not the fastest of readers, and I’m genetically coded to only be able to single task, so I’m afraid when I’m stuck in a book, I can’t write much.

And the best time to read is on my commute – which is coincidentally when I usually write. You see where my problem lies?

So it’s not my fault at all, it’s that pesky Douglas Adams.

I love Douglas Adams.

Well his writing anyway – even if he was still alive I’d find his insistence on being a man a turn off, when it came to loving anything else.

Currently I’m re-reading his Dirk Gently books and am nose deep in The Long Dark Tea Time Of the Soul – quite possibly the best book ever written, easily on a par with the first two ‘Hitchhiker’s guide’ books.

I last read Dirk in the early 90’s, so I’m quite enjoying the contrast between not being able to remember what comes next, and yet being completely familiar with the story. Also age is allowing me to see another side to the text that I missed last time around.

Adams, alongside Terry Pratchett, is a huge influence on me, both in my written humour and my personal real life humour. I may not have the depth or the quality but I do admit that I at least try and copy some of the style. It is difficult, if not impossible, not to emulate your heroes when you write – successful or not is immaterial, the point is their influence is magnetic and draws you in, even if it’s only in your own head.

I imagine I’ll be finished my book by the end of the week (yes I really do read that slowly when I’m enjoying a good book. I have to take every word in, devour every sentence, and absorb every paragraph. I can’t skim read class) so as long as I don’t get distracted by the temptations of the Hitchhiker’s trilogy on my bookshelf, service should swiftly be restored to its almost above average self.

When you read a really good book, do you speed up and finish it without taking a breath, like my wife who can Kindle her way through Stieg Larsson in 6 minutes? Or do you sit back and let the words slowly envelop you?



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