Like Brideshead Revisited, but less exciting.
Well! After a week it is safe to say that the Semi-Sobriety Project is (was) an abject failure. It is also safe to say that I have a spot (not relevant, I just noticed that) and an utterly shameful lack of self-control.
Next week I shall restart the SSP in earnest - obviously this week was trial run and therefore doesn't really count. At all.
And now, for Things At Which One Gets No Trial Run -
I have ceased to dither (I like that phrase) about whether I'm going to do National Novel Writing Month this year. I have decided - blogroll, please - that I AM. Two reasons pushed me over the edge -
1. Bestfriend, who is doing NaNoWriMo herself, said "You have to do it! I will peer pressure you!" I am a sucker for peer pressure (suspect this has a lot to do with the failure of the SSP (Round 1)).
2. Had Idea whilst browsing the Nano forums - will write Adventure novel! Was having a lot of difficulty choosing a genre, but have now settled on that. I think. Perhaps spy thriller, set in the Cambodian jungle, with snakes? (Idea of Bestfriend, who is probably writing something totally grown-up.) I also like the idea of doing something Indiana Jones-esque. It'll give me room to play with cliche a bit, and also to keep it in a light vein rather than having to go all serious and self-examining (I think that was in the wrong tense, but never mind), which I think I would tend to do if I went for Literary Fiction. Sister Flatmate suggested I write 'something semi-autobiographical.' Horrific thought. Not so much because everyone would read the autobiographical bits, but more because everyone would read the semi- bits and think that these were also autobiographical, and say things like, "Did you really pick up some 23-year-old bloke from Plimmerton, who lives with his mum and is excited about starting work at Hallensteins, at Burger King at three in the morning when you were really pissed?" And you say, "No! That is the semi part, not the autobiographical part." But they never believe you.
Story of the day:
This morning, I was going to walk up a (small) mountain with three friends and drink champagne, and watch the sun rise. How lovely, I hear you think! Well. Do you know what time the sun rises? Do you? Neither did I. Turns out that it's about half past five in the morning or something. BEFORE you factor in half an hour to walk up the mountain (I did say it was small), and 20 minutes to walk from your friend's house to the bottom of the mountain, and 20 minutes to walk from your house to theirs, and 5 minutes in the shower, and...
To cut a long story short, I did not get up and see the sunrise.
There will be many, many more, and I will see some of those. Unless there is a NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST this evening (OK let's be honest it may be several months before I see another sunrise, so unless there is a NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST sometime in early March), in which case we will all have far more important things to worry about than watching sunrises. I hear those atomic sunrises are far prettier than our regular ones anyway.
It must be time for another cup of tea.