On Saturday an entire nation woke with a cultural hangover. Even those who’d entered into Friday evening full of cynicism, woke up asking themselves, “did that really happen?” and “It was rather good, wasn’t it?”
I’ve never been anti-olympics, but I can understand why some are. I have, however, been against elements of the event – the sponsorship, the censorship on urban comment through the whitewashing of graffiti, the missiles on people’s houses.





I am so glad that I blocked out the whole of last week. With hindsight I should have blocked out this week as well.
First, apologies if anybody is waiting on anything from me (I don’t think there is). I believe everyone I’m working with knows this week is a bust for me, work wise. And if I haven’t told you, I’ve be planning for this for months, and have figured it into any deadlines due next week.
I read something recently that argued that it is harder to write hope than it is to write cynicism. I think that’s probably true. Likewise, I think that it’s easier to be cynical than to be hopeful. Showing hope somehow exposes us, lays bare our dreams and aspirations, amkes us vulnerable.
Not too brilliant a weekend. First I ended up house sitting whilst the electricians came to do some work. I had no electricity so was unable to do any writing (coz it’s all on computers these days, init?) but at least I read most of Whispers Underground by Ben Aaronovitch. I have to say I’m loving his Peter Grant books. Fun, easy reading, and the perfect thing when you are sitting there thinking “surely the Landlord should be doing the house sitting?”.
If I had to list my heroes you’d probably not know one of them. Everyone has heard of George Lucas, Clive Barker and JRR Tolkien but not so many have heard of
So now it can be revealed.
This year has been rubbish for me for Geocaching. 2011 was pretty good despite a lot going on in my personal life with 3812 caches found. Prior to that I’d averaged around 2000 a year.
Whilst unpacking boxes yesterday I came across my first ever rejection. It was for a story I submitted to Interzone when I was eighteen called “…Just a dream”.