There now follows a short list of things I am going to do in the next few days.
- Write an article for Singles Warehouse.
- Write a review of Strictly for Dork Adore.
- Meet Remittance Girl for dinner and discuss things that are writery.
- Go to the press launch for Windows 8.
- The Erotic Meet Mixed Media Meet.
- Smut and Magic book launch at Sh! Hoxton.
- A Workshop. Ooooeeer.
- Velvet Tongue.
There now follows a list of other, less pleasant things I need to do in the next few days.
- Make an appointment with the Job Centre.
- Do groceries.
- Do edits on a story that needs to be sent out next week.
There now follows a list of the things I desperately want to do, but are being made slightly more complicated by….. certain ominous factors.
- Meet Sir Roger Moore at his book signing at HMV.
There now follows a list… Well, no list, just a teeny tiny rant. A smidge of a rant. A rantlet, if you will.
First of all, the bloody book, although I’m sure it’s brilliant, costs 25 quid. I do not have 25 quid. Neither do I have the will to turn up at 9 AM in order to secure myself one of two hundred bracelets that will allow me access to the signing AT FIVE THIRTY.
It would be a dream come true to meet Roger Moore and have him sign my copy of his book. But this entire kerfuffle makes me lose the courage to go through with it.
Then again. Then again.
My point in this entire kerfuffle of a post is that I’ve got a massive week coming up. I’m also feeling massively under the weather. The bitter autumnal cold makes me want to curl up in bed with a book and a hot drink. And a hot man. And a hot water bottle.
But, you know. I’m the Barenaked Lady. I’m a tough cookie. And it’s a pretty damn fun week coming up. Put on a scarf, jacket and warm sweater, self medicate and eat right, surround self with excellent company, and I’m pretty sure I can push through the scribbly throat.