So many things happening this week and not one of them to do with my literary aspirations…
Liverpool are out of Europe, after a game that would have reduced Arnold Schwarzenegger to a dribbling wreck. Eight goals fell in one game, the final result being 4-4; it was one of the best games I've seen in ages.
I'm still busy with the brickwork. The thing is, when you're on your own everything takes longer. And then I had to wait for sand, which didn't come until Tuesday because of the Easter Bank holidays. Whatever, it's coming slowly.
So where does that leave me in regards to writing?
Well, I haven't written a thing.
Speaking of lyrics, (which we weren't), the band that I write the lyrics for is in the studio. The drums and one rhythm guitar are already down, after two days, (which is exceedingly quick for twelve songs) and all seems to be going well.
Right, that's it.
Tara peeps. I'm on nightshift tonight and then I'm off all weekend.
Nice that, innit?