Ever since I was very young I have told myself stories before going to sleep (though sometimes I get so involved in them they keep me awake). For the last couple of decades many of these have been about the two Bloomacre brothers - one a musician/composer/instrument maker and the other a mathematician turned mercenary - set against a fantasy background similar to Europe's wars of the reformation, where a church based on magic oppresses those who eschew it as a perversion of their faith.

It's that time of year again, when there are quite a few poetry competitions for Anglos like me. I've not entered any for the last couple of years after being placed in one, and getting outed as a poet in work (definitely non-U in an IT department). I have a few to get ready, a fairly painstaking process, so no new fiction for a couple of weeks at least.

China has, eventually, begun to appear on my shelves, although it's somewhat different from what I started searching for more than a month ago. It didn't take too long to discover that I have an innate expensive taste in porcelain, the imari patterns I was most attracted to were art nouveau Derby pieces, beautiful but impractical for use.

I've spent the last fortnight alternating between the throes of nicotine deprivation and guilt from succumbing to it - I am too weak.

I've written nothing, though I've had a few new ideas, and earlier this week I - accidentally - half sold the idea of 'Midnight Angels' to one of the commissioning editors in work - like I need the pressure!

Another meander through the trivia of my life, but then I don't really worry too much about the big stuff.

The town where I live was expanded from a small market town during the nineteen sixties, spreading out into the surrounding countryside. As the newly developed areas were built on greenfield sites finding street names has been something of a problem - one area has streets named for composers, another for islands and another for Roman emperors!

GRAND SLAM! I can't believe it, I can't see for the tears

It just gets better and better... tape a bow 'Sizzling Shane' Williams :)

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=Km2VARzN4DU&feature=user

EDIT: little description for anyone who can't access the video link

Happy St David's Day everyone! I'm up early to get a headstart on the leeks....

Amazon's 'Your Store' can be a bit of a pain - if it's not the scrolling through, ticking 'own that' and 'not interested' boxes, it's the liability to spend, spend, spend. Once in a while however, it turns up something that suits you down to the ground.

Spring here, life is skittles and life is beer, I think the loveliest time of the year is spring. Don't you?

well, not really, more mildly miffed... I've just finished putting together a flat pack coffee table, and it's HUGE - way too big for my living room... the dimensions aren't bad (the top's big enough to hold my laptop, ashtray, teapot, cup and saucer), but the legs are a massive 2.5" square.

I have written nothing this weekend, but I've some good excuses...

1. really nice weather gave me a chance to launder the pile of bed linen that's built up since the last one - everything's washed and ironed now, so that'll be OK for a few weeks.

I thought I'd try something tonight by way of an experiment. I'm still plugging away at my Edwardian story so I thought I'd programme some appropriate music for the period, so far it's been Parry and Elgar orchestral pieces, with a chunk of Vaughan Williams ('London Symphony','Lark Ascending','Songs of Travel') - I'm not sure it's working as I intended, I seem to be listening more than typing :)

anyone else tried something similar?

I had a eureka moment this afternoon, and have finally come up with the last major plot element for my first Edwardian set story (I think my little sojourn back to my eighties adolesence helped quite a bit).

So where does inspiration come from? Tonight it came from two pieces of classical music (one by Schá¶nberg, one by Ives), Klimt's 'Judith' and an assist from Oscar Wilde.

I'm 300 words in and it seems to be going swimmingly, though there's a better than fair chance that when I read it back in the morning it's just going to be pretentious b*****s.

Oh well :)