Saturday 15th August 2015
Good day, my Peeps<cracks knuckles and continues to type>it’s me, the absent houseboy, ambling in to open a page for August. Autumn lurks just around the corner like a dirty old man in a flasher mac (you can smell him in the morning and evening air) so make the most of these late summer days before he throws off his coat and exposes himself in his entirety, the filthy devil. Close your eyes, Doris!
On the domestic front - bearded carrots eh, what are they all about? You shouldn’t have to shave a root vegetable before eating it. On the world front - poor Cecil the lion, his life ended by a wanker tooth technician on an ego trip. My dentist would never shoot a defenceless lion. He wouldn’t have to. His hands are big enough to kill one using the strangulation method while pretending to examine its teeth for cavities and advising it on whitening products. On the new book front - nope, still not there, I’m procrastinating and I know it, must try harder, etc. Anyway, moving swiftly on, I thought I’d better make an announcement regarding my snail anecdote, as mentioned in my last entry for July. I’ve been a bit sluggish about following through with it due to some fizzy brain activity. If twitching and jerking were Olympic sports, I’d be in with a chance at ‘seizing’ gold, especially if I did it to music while twirling a ribbon on a stick.
Shut up babbling, Gilli, I hear you say, and if you aren’t going to write Revs then at least tell us about the snail tale you’ve been dangling in front of us like a carrot on a stick in front of a deaf donkey since last month. Okay, okay! Fair enough. Keep your hair on. As often happens with me, things are either a glut or a famine. I meant to impart my snail shame in a handful of words or less, but alas when I began writing it I had my gobshite head on and went into greater detail. It’s meandered on a few blocks, becoming a full-fledged chapter of memoir. Over the next few days I’m going to bang it on the Smashwords site, along with a fun cover for your delectation. Feel free and most welcome to read it for free, or chip in a few pence (nothing extravagant, just a token to feed my author fantasy) or a kind word, as you wish and without obligation. I hope that’s an okay thing to do? Ta, chucks!
As ever, before I go do what a boy’s gotta do on a fine and sunny Saturday, mucho gracias to fans old and new for all recent kind communications. You’re smashers!
puff...pant...gasp...be patient, I'm coming as fast as I can............
Monday 17th August 2015
It’s a sunny, yellow mellow Monday morning here in my portion of old Blighty. The flowers in the garden are just about full-blown, but still beautiful. Summer isn’t ready to bow out quite yet. One slight source of outdoor annoyance, apart from the multitudes of slugs and snails, is a sticky icky rash of cherry pits on the back lawns. A cherry tree planted a good few years ago has come into its own this year and produced its first ever flush of fruits. Talk about a late bloomer. Cherry pie, I thought, rubbing my hands in glee, after first spotting this bounty of nature. I thought again after tasting them. They’re as sour as the thoughts of a religious fanatic, and really rather nasty. Oh, disappointment! The spugs seem to like them though. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t begrudge the birds one of their five portions a day. I just wish they’d clean up afterwards instead of leaving pecked pits and half eaten cherries all over my lovely grass. The uncouth buggers!
My random chapter of memoir for July is done. I’m just having it checked out for glaring omissions and errors before releasing it into the wild. I don’t want the scary, mean old Grammar Nazis ripping shreds off me. I expect it will still contain an error or two, but as long as they’re not glaring or staring ones I can live with that. Seeing as it amounts to some five thousand plus words I thought making it downloadable would give a better reading experience, in a technical sense at least. I’m not saying it’s Shakespeare or anything in a content sense, but I hope it’s at least enjoyable. The diary is okay for recording shorter bursts of houseboy verbal, but anything longer tends to be unsatisfactory in an eye to page sense, if you get my drift? Hmm, I’ve got my gobshite head on again today. No wonder Shane left for work early this morning. He looked frazzled as he left the house, insisting there was no need for me to accompany him to his car. I once overheard him telling Leo he was looking forward to having a hearing aid, so at least he could take it out and get some peace and quiet when I was in one of my chatty moods. He loves my chatter really, they both do. It keeps them informed. How else would they know what’s going on in the neighbourhood?
I’d better shut it and go. I’ve got stuff to take to the cleaners. I’ve put a preview of my snail tale cover on the book page if you want to take a peek? It’s cute, I think. Ciao for now!
Tuesday 18th August 2015
Click on Malcolm the mollusc for 'The Snail Affair.' To those of you who have already bought copies, I say thank you from the heart of my bottom. You're most generous and kind. :)
Thursday 20th August 2015
Skies are glum and gloomy over Houseboy Towers this morning. Flasher mac Autumn is flexing his muscles, trying it on. Be gone, I say, put your muscle away and cover up. I’m not ready to let summer go. We were supposed to be going on a camping adventure this weekend with Leo and Mike, but the weather isn’t looking promising, so not sure if it will go ahead. I don’t mind struggling to put up a tent in sheeting rain and gale force winds, it’s all part of the outdoor experience, but Dick tends to get snotty about it. Bless, he’s not one for roughing it. I wouldn’t mind so much, but our tent is hardly a bit of old canvas over two sticks, it’s a luxury event equivalent to a collapsible bungalow. You could live in it quite happily all year round. I hope we can still go. I’ve been looking forward to it.
Before I pop off to begin organising clothes and provisions on the chance our manly foray into the wild will go ahead, let me just say a big thank you once again to those of you who bought a copy of TSA. Some of you have been generous to an overwhelming degree. Pas de regrets? I so hope you thought it was worth it and that it provided you with some reading pleasure, otherwise I’ll cry! ;)