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Southern Comfort

DIARY OF AN AFTERNOON




THE OTHER DAY – P.M.

• Drive into Nottingham around noon. • Write 3 pages of notes on a new story idea about islands, aliens and whales (watch this space) whilst waiting in car. • Check emails and posts on phone. someone had commented that my picture of a cactus with two huge flower buds (on the village Facebook pages) looked like an alien about to embrace someone – so that was a few more notes (later typed into a writ story (not a right story). Still quite early for my appointment, I was contemplating the litter in the gutter – accumulated by the wind, and out came the notebook – and there was another story, which I later typed up. I could write a book about car parks I’ve sat and waited in. Then I either type the notes up, or photograph them and file them on my laptop. In a folder called “Waiting in the Wings”. • Dentist’s chair for a gruelling 2+ hours. Fix next two appointments to correct and adjust last month’s dental disasters. • Evening: o Seek refuge in warm Southern Comfort o fiddling with the islands story – tentatively called “Cetacean Refrain”; o then altering the website banner – and we’re quite pleased with it, now my son’s corrected all my errors of formatting and judgement; o and a modicum of telly-watching (we binge-watched “Intruder”). o Electric blanket on (I had the shivers after the dentist’s treatment of my delicate bits); • Then bed - open “Terminal Space” and escape for five wonderful minutes… • Okay, not really, but that’s how my last advertising tweet went, with a link to the short SF story “Option 3”. • It was actually three hours of rampant sex. • And if you believe that, you need to switch genres – try fantasy. Mentioning Southern Comfort – Some time ago, I wrote a story “English Rose” about an American GI in WW2 who fell in love with two “English Rose” types, but he was injured and his love went unrequited. He was shipped off home. I won’t spoil it for you, but “Southern Comfort” could be an alternative title.

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