Tag Archive: Writing


The Sunday Roast – Myspace Revisited.

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June 9, 2013

Introduction.

I’m delving into the old Myspace archives again. Things not been great in old Walsall but I don’t want to go weeks without a roast. Therefore, I’m re-posting more of my now impossible to find roasts from the Myspace days. However, I’m going to go against my OCD and not leave where I left off the last time I re-hashed the old stuff. You see, I was up to December 2008 and I thought, looking today, it would seem silly when the sun is shining to be talking about the perils of Christmas shopping.

June 9 Father Christmas Sunbathing

Yes, not quite the season for Father Christmas.

Therefore …

Britain’s Got Talent Pushy Parents (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I saw the clip of a little ten year old on Britain’s Got Talent. This is the girl who forced hard man, Simon Cowell, to give her a second chance after she broke down and cried with a hissy fit. Verruca Salt from Willy Wonka would have been proud of the performance. Am I being cruel and heartless, though to say that I found it incredibly funny? At the end of the day, there is a moral here about the pitfalls for our kids if left in the hands of pushy parents. Kids should be kids but some parents just want to bask in the glory.

June 9 Girl cries on Britain's got Talent

There she is, in tears after that cruel pair, Ant and Dec, told her the show hadn’t time to give her a second chance. Cue the tears, enter Simon Cowell … On with the second chance.

Sense of fair play, 0 … Spoiled Brats, 1.

And I hate to say it, even though I don’t watch the show, I catch bits occasionally and it’s still full of tiny tantrums in the making which the audiences go gooey-eyed over.

You have to wonder about the parents. Ahhh, if only they could keep them young forever. They’d milk millions from them.

Also during that week … Britt’s adventures eating out (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I spoke the other week how us with the Britt name get bad experiences, wherever we go, particularly while eating out. Well, four years ago …

I went out twice this week. The Indian Restaurant was nice, even though I had to avoid having the Travellers on the other table offer to do the guttering on my house. They even tried it on with the old couple on a nearby table and three of the waiters into the bargain.

Normal Nick service was resumed when I went to Pizza Hut the following day. Not the usual one where we get bad service from aggressive staff. We tried that one and were told there was a 25 minute wait for a table. Therefore, myself and companion of the time, went to the other one around the corner in the Shopping Centre. There we were seated straight away … then had to wait 25 minutes for somebody to take our order.

I say seated straight away … that was after this huge lady came into the place and made a beeline for the table we were being showed to without approaching any staff and almost knocked my companion over in the process. The staff allowed this and also served her first because she shouted louder. So it was great fun for us to wait for our order to be taken as she wolfed down her starters. Still, at least we got the bill before her and left with satisfaction when I commented that I hoped she choked on her gateaux.

Bitter, me?

And I still hate Pizza Hut. I always have some bad experience. I don’t even own up to going there any more. And I’m not the only one. Former footballer, Gareth Southgate even wore a paper bag on his head in this Pizza Hut TV commercial.

June 9 Gareth Southgate Pizza Hut Advert

Weird. He has a paper bag on his head, yet it still looks like Gareth Southgate.

Callers who leave me cold. (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

I had a call the other night from a company called Space Designs. I’ve had them before and the woman put the phone down on me as soon as I said I wasn’t interested.

This time, when I said no thank you, the guy from Space Designs got aggressive with me, shouting, ‘What do you mean you aren’t interested? You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.’

WTF? It’s my bloody phone isn’t it? They rang me on my time. I can say what I bloody well like. Therefore, in revenge, I managed to engage this pillock in an argument which lasted over five minutes. That’s five minutes of his sales time when he could have been contacting somebody who actually gave a damn.

Message to all Cold callers, don’t mess with the Empty Souls.

June 9 Blondie hanging on the Telephone

Okay, I couldn’t find a picture which demonstrated dealing with cold callers. Therefore, here’s Blondie singing Hanging on the Telephone.

I will add, Empty Souls was my pseudonym on Myspace.

Let’s talk about sex, baby … (Originally posted (7 June 2009).

Or rather, tantric sex.

I was reading an old article about Sting and his experiences with Tantric Sex. Basically, this practice appears to be where people forego any physical intimacy and instead, do it on a spiritual path. By using their inner eye, they can apparently focus on their partner and reach sexual satisfaction without all that tedious, messy shagging.

My God, you have to admire the invention of the woman who came up with that one. You know, some poor lass who wanted an excuse not to have some fat hairy bloke humping and grunting on top of her for ten minutes while they were more concerned with trying to breathe. I mean, the old I’ve got a headache, darling, must have been wearing a bit thin and they obviously needed a new approach.

Imagine the scene. Tired woman wants to relax but there he is, in the bedroom, undressing with expectant grin on face while trying to hold the muffin top belly from exploding over his boxer shorts.

‘Darling,’ she says, ‘I’m going to suggest we try something different tonight.’

At this point, hairy bloke will get excited because he thinks she may be about to abandon all that messing about called, foreplay.

‘I’ve been reading about this thing called Tantric Sex, and I think it would benefit us. What we do is both remove our clothes and sit six feet apart from one another. While we concentrate our energies, our inner eye will focus on our bodies and eventually, we reach sexual satisfaction. Oh and you may find it helpful if you close your eyes while you’re doing it. Plus, I’m going to be glancing at Hello Magazine as it aids my spirituality and hopefully we can both enjoy this fantastic experience.’

Therefore, while he is sitting cross legged with eyes closed and inner eye exploring the contours of her clitoris, her inner eye is pricing up pink sparkly heels.

If I tried something like this, my mind would switch off and I’d be asleep within minutes. Perhaps that’s what the desired effect is.

July 8 Sting Smug Git

Tantric sex, as promoted by Smug Git of the Year, twenty times running, Sting. He wouldn’t be so smug if he worked out wife, Trudie, just wanted a peaceful night when she suggested tantric.

So long, and see you next time.

Okay, hope you enjoyed that. I do aim to re-post more old blogs rather than have them lost in the catacombs of Myspace but hopefully, next week I shall be back to normal.

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – Recycle Special (And not old stuff, either).

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May 26, 2013

More recycling nonsense.

Last week I recycled old Sunday Roast material as I hadn’t anything new to say. And it got me thinking. In those pieces of old, I spoke of recycling when it first became a fad in my locality a few years back.

Before the present recycle collections, our local council used to issue us with a small box for recycling virtually nothing, while the rest went into the large green waste bin. Any recycling like plastic bottles, we had to take to collection points.

However, I applauded Walsall Council when they told us to use the huge green bins in order to recycle … well, just about anything. We were also issued with smaller grey bins for what little you couldn’t recycle.

May 26 - Waste Bins (C) Antony N Britt

There they are. In the larger green ones, as I say, the list was endless and Walsall was hailed as being at the forefront of environmentally friendly. Until last year.

Suddenly, us residents were doing it wrong. No longer was it okay to put in all of the previously indicated items. No, we had a compressed list of 20 suitable ones.

May 26 - Recycle Leaflet

Actually telling people would have been a good idea but these leaflets only went out after bins were left uncollected and jobsworth inspectors came along with their clipboards and put stickers on to say you’d done it wrong.

In hindsight, if things were not done correctly, then at least the council should have held their hands up and said they’d made a mistake with their previous guidelines.

Walsall Council own own up to something like that? Nah, that would go against the divine right mentality in the God complexes of those who run our council.

And another false way of helping the environment.

I’m always seeing products in my supermarket which have cheaper and supposedly, environmentally friendly refill packs.

May 26 - Refill Packs (C) Antony N Britt

Yes, just like that. Horlicks bedtime drink and sweetener. These usually come in plastic tubs or jars, as shown. I’m told this will save the environment. Really? You see, I can recycle the jars, however, not the refill packaging. So how is that better?

Also, it is supposedly costing me less as these refills are a few pence cheaper and I can save the money by just emptying the contents into the old jar.

Yeah, right, have you ever tried to pour a refill into an old jar? Take the sweetener. No matter how careful you open the plastic packet, as soon as you attempt to pour, most of it goes over the side and creates a white cloud akin to an Icelandic volcano. Therefore, my fifty pence saving is no longer still in my pocket, it is in a squidgy mess being mopped up with a paper towel from my kitchen surface. A kitchen towel, I will add, I cannot recycle.

Now something I can recycle …

Look. This is the scene in my front porch, as I speak.

May 26 - Pizza Menus (C) Antony N Britt

Tell me, just how many pizzas do these fast food places expect me to be able to eat?

And what else is being recycled at the minute?

The FA has announced yet another new football kit to fleece the parents of every kid who wants to wear it. However, I can see their thinking on this one.

May 26 - New England Kit

The new kit is identical to the successful one used by Germany all these years. Therefore, by pretending to be Germany, the England football team can now hope to recycle a little of our European neighbours triumphs.

And on the subject of football …

Well, loosely connected to football … and very loosely connected to recycling …

Father of former England stars, Gary and Phil Neville, has been arrested.

May 26 - Gary and Phil Neville

Yes, there are the brothers but what on earth was their grandfather thinking when he named their dad, Neville?

Neville Neville? Recycling names takes a bizarre twist.

And recycling old, tired faces.

Karaoke talent show, X-Factor has long been guilty of recycling the same old garbage. However, they are now recycling judges well past their use-by date.

Sharon Osbourne is to return to the show at the cost of £1.5million.

April 22 explosion Sharon

There she is, in a recycled pic I posted last year when I blew her up.

It’s ironic. Sharon Osbourne, a person with absolutely no showbiz talent, judging a showbiz talent show.

That wraps up my recycling for this week.

Hope you have a better week than I’ve been having lately but for now, I’m off to the bottle bank to avoid being told off by my local council

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – More Myspace Roasts.

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May 19, 2013

The good old days …

May 19 - The Good Old Days

Nooooo! Not that Good Old Days!

It’s time for another trip down memory lane and a delve into the archives of the old Myspace Sunday Roasts. Or another way of putting it, I have bugger all to write about this week.

I still curse at Myspace as it has been painful for a long time to log on and revisit my old hunting ground. This matter was compounded even more, recently. You see, not only have Myspace deleted many of the pictures on my old blogs, all the lovely comments by my readers have been removed, now.

And they expect me to sign up for the new updated Myspace? No thanks.

June 10 Myspace sucks

Therefore …

My bit for recycling (Originally posted 16 November 2008)

No, I’m not referring to recycling my old roasts, but an actual piece on helping the environment, as of five years ago.

February 24 - Recycle Logo

I’m always one for trying to save the environment, and I do my bit. Recyle. However, I wonder how efficient my energy saving efforts are. I had a foil tin which had contained a meal with cheese. Well, while washing up, I suddenly realised I’d spent over two minutes trying to clean this for recycling by running the hot tap water on it, thus burning my gas in heating the water. I also wasted about two litres of the water into the bargain. So how is that a saving?

Still, I did come across a new environment friendly thing the other day. A pen made from recycled car parts. Lets just hope it wasn’t recycled from a Renault because if a spring goes, it will cost £50 to replace and you’ll have to wait three weeks for the parts to be shipped from France.

Hmm, Pens made from recycled car parts … I wonder if you have a pen made from a 4×4, does it guzzles the ink faster? And would one made from a Rover 75 write slower than any other pen you have ever used in your life? What about biros made from old Volvo’s; are they able to tow a caravan? And finally, would those made from a Vauxhall Vectra have loads of little switches which seem to have a mind of their own and only work when they want to?

And this still happens five years on … (Originally posted 16 November 2008)

I am reminded of a quick emergency trip I made to Asda the other day (Walmart, as some of you over the stream may call it) .

Now why is it, when you go into Asda and only purchase two packets of ‘Weight Watchers Creamy Chicken with Mushrooms’ for £3, are you asked by the checkout person, ‘Would you like any help with your packing?’

However, when you are there after spending £200 which is crammed into two full trolleys, both with dodgy wheels which keep locking and you have three kids running around, all piling sweets into said trolleys (that you specifically told them not to), and you have to scream at them to stop sliding on the polished floor, or pushing the public address system button while screaming ‘Scooby Dooby Doooo!’ to the entire store, are you left by the formerly helpful checkout person to pack all the bloody stuff yourself?

And don’t even get me started on self-scan tills. Only I could have an argument with a machine.

May 19 - Checkout

Automated checkouts. This one was on a lunch break.

And now for the paranormal … (Originally posted 30 November 2008)

I have never been one to believe in UFOs. Surprising when you consider my experience the paranormal with ghosts and stuff. However, I heard a story on the news that a place very close to myself has some of the most convincing UFO accounts in the UK. I did a little research and found out that West Bromwich and surrounding area has had more than its fair share, one of which goes back to 1979.

According to the British UFO Research Association, a woman reported an egg-shaped object about eight feet long which had flown down and landed in her garden. The association also say, the object left prominent ground traces which were subsequently photographed and measured. The woman then found that her eyesight was adversely affected and her general well-being was so disturbed, her GP advised her to stay off work for a fortnight. Typical Black Country excuses. Anything for a week or two on the sick. Apparently, after a short stay in her garden, the ship took off again and hovered before shooting off west and heading towards Dudley. It was obvious the aliens were aware the Merry Hill Centre had late opening hours and they wanted to do a bit of shopping.

May 19 - Close Encounters

UFO landing outside Primark.

Those accounts were from the UFO archives. However, at the time of writing the piece, my team, West Bromwich Albion were bottom of the Premier League and got relegated that year. So, therefore from 2008 …

A police helicopter flying at 1500ft over West Bromwich came across a UFO when they had a near miss and almost collided with the bugger. However, looking deeper, I found more sightings in which two separate witnesses, again in West Bromwich, observed “White round balls of light close together which came out of the sky, floated, then disappearied.’

Ahhh, it began to make sense. West Bromwich. You see, West Bromwich Albion hadn’t scored many goals at that time. Most shots were wide of the mark and blasted miles out of the ground

Bloody UFOs, my arse! It’s that team and their inability to put a round ball into the back of a massive net. In fact, the blooming things are still traveling, now.

May 19 - Kanu Miss 2004

Above, we have a prime example and the Kanu open goal fluff from 2004. One foot out, he managed to balloon the ball over the bar where it was then lost, but later found by Mulder and Scully.

May 19 - Mulder and Scully

So, that wraps up the nostalgia for today.

Hopefully by next week, something will have happened for me to write about. Till then …

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – A Little Road Trip

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May 5, 2013

A busy schedule and a road trip.

You may have noticed the absence of a Sunday Roast last week. This was because it was my rest day, and that was smack bang in the middle of the shift pattern from hell. On that day off, I went to see David at his college in Wales and stop over for his review the next day.

After doing a long shift and travelling over 100 miles to see him, though, what does he want? Yes, I have to drive a further 40+ miles as he wishes to ride on the Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog Railway.

Once there, you’d have thought I’d asked the impossible of the ticket collector when I tried to pay on the train as we had to jump on quick in order to catch it.

It’s a lovely journey, though. Well, it would have been but for the rain. However, this was Wales. It always rains in Wales.

I do admit, I made a mistake now catching that earlier train and opting to spend three hours in Porthmadog as there is … well, nothing there. Totally bugger all to see once you’ve had a look at the trains.

Blaenau Ffestiniog to Porthmadog Railway © Antony N Britt

We did find a half decent cafe to eat in and it was entertaining to watch the young lass on the counter have to pull up her trousers every two seconds as they kept falling down. However, it was soon a case of asking the unheard of, again. David wanted chicken nuggets but the menu only had them as a kids meal. That meant David was only going to be given four of them. I asked if they could do a further four and I’d pay an extra couple of quid but no, apparently that was too hard. I did think of buying two kids nugget meals but by then, it was a matter of principle.

Don’t think I’ll go to Porthmadog again. There was a tiny shed which said that it held the Maritime Museum and there was also a model railway fair, billed as taking place … next week. Couldn’t help laughing at the below attraction which we passed during several walks up and down the street to kill time.

The World's Worst Crazy Golf Course © Antony N Britt

Yes, the world’s most boring and basic crazy golf attraction. It’s a strip of tarmac with a few obstacles stuck on. And I was expected to pay for that? No thanks.

And the traffic rumbles on.

Previously on the Sunday Roast …

I spoke of my irritation on motorways and how I get held up by cretins in heavy goods vehicles who hog the middle lane as they take two years to overtake another heavy goods vehicle in the inside one.

IMGP8932

Yes, that sort of thing. It was just a theory when I wrote it but being fresh in the memory and taking my road trip, I kept an eye out and found it’s so true.

Every time I came across a slowing of traffic and a little congestion, I found the answer at the front of the problem. Two bloody lorries playing cat and mouse as they overtook one another.

Arrrggghhh! Keep to the inside lane. You only save a few minutes on your journey by doing this madness and you cause problems for other drivers.

My brain is dying.

The reason – At work, I have had the misfortune to be subjected to Heart FM … at great lengths. Okay, not as bad as some stations but Kerrang, it ain’t. The odd good track but mostly middle of the road bilge. And if there is one song I hate, it’s that Michael Jackson oldie – Smooth Criminal.

May 5 - Michael Jackson Smmoth Criminal

Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie? Annie are you okay, are you okay Annie? Annie are you okay …? And he goes on and on and on, asking the same question.

Annie, for Christ’s sake, just answer the bloody man so we can get on and hear a decent song.

What kind of moron gives a loaded weapon to a five-year-old?

Answer: The kind who is allowed to by law.

Toy ones are scary enough but hey, some folk think they have the right to blow each others brains out. Whatever happened to giving kids a Johnny Seven and be done with it?

May 5 - Johnny Seven One Man Army Toy Gun

And a postscript to Thatcher’s funeral.

May 5 - Margaret Thatcher Spitting Image

I’ve made my feelings clear on the woman without, I hope, stooping to the distaste of some. However, in times of hardship, it was, I think, too much money to be spent on a state funeral for somebody who caused so much misery to the people now forced to fork out once more to bury her.

Apparently it didn’t cost as much as anticipated. For the taxpayer, it was only 6p per person.

Still too blooming much. She took enough off me back in the 80s. I want my money back on this one.

No more road trips for a while.

One .. I’m working. I’m posting this in the spare ten minutes between shifts. Two … David has made sure my fuel allowance for the next month has been eaten up in one big meal. I could raise some money, I suppose. Yeah, to purchase a car park, stick a few loose bricks around it and call it a crazy golf attraction. Sorted.

Cheers.

Nick

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Another of My Short Stories, Now Available at Darker Times Fiction.

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May 3, 2013

Shooting Ghosts, another short story of mine, got an honourable mention in the Darker Times Monthly Competition for April. It is available on the Darker Times website by clicking the link.

Link to Shooting Ghosts (Via Darker Times Fiction).

Darker Times

Cheers.

Nick

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Two of My Short Stories Now Available in Darker Times Anthology Volume 3.

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April 23, 2013

I mentioned recently that I’d had two stories achieve some success in Darker Times Fiction. Both are still available to read via the Darker Times website with the links on the Published Online page, but they are now also in print.

The two stories: The Monster Who Lives in the Cellar and Trick or Treat are published in Darker Times Anthology Volume Three.

Copies can be purchased by clicking this link.

Darker Times Anthology Volume 3

Cheers.

Nick

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Two of My Poems in Print.

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March 5, 2013

I admit to not getting most poetry, but even so, I do try to write some of my own. As a result, two of my pieces, Fragile and Announcing the Arrival Of …, are available in, This is a Book About Alice, a book of poetry and flash fiction published by Earlyworks Press.

You can get a copy by following this link to Earlyworks Press.

This is a Book About Alice

Cheers.

 

Nick

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News of a Major Competition Win.

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January 11, 2013

Bit late in telling you all about this one but my latest writing success has now been published in the Writers’ News section of the current edition (Feb 2013) of Writing Magazine.

Writing Magazine Feb 2013 Story by Antony N Britt

My short story, Suspicion, won the 1000-Word Competition in the top UK writing magazine. I was well pleased. Thanks to all who have read it and given such positive feedback.

Link to purchase February 2013 edition of Writing Magazine.

Cheers.

Nick

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The Sunday Roast – Happy Birthday to the Roast … With a Few Cretins Thrown In.

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October 14, 2012

I think I’d best say one thing about the Sunday Roast …

Yes, four years ago this week, way back in the good old days of Myspace, I posted my first roast. Up until then, I’d been content to write about anything that took my fancy, blogging whenever it did. Yesterday, I was reminded of the birthday when I took part in two workshops at the Birmingham Book Festival and it was while going to one of the same in 2008, I found I had loads of things to write about. It was too much for one post so I bunged them all in one pot-pourri and called it The Sunday Roast.

As I say in my About Me, section, the Roast ran every week for two years, then on and off during 2011 when Myspace went down the toilet. Finally, the Roast began here once more, earlier this year. The old blogs are still there on Myspace, but it would take you a week to navigate the mess on that site.

Therefore, something I can do (as I have the original word documents stored on my computer), is re-publish this …

From the very first Roast (12 October 2008).

I had a dream about my younger kids last night. They were playing on some climbing frames and I was calling for them to come off so we could go home. It was one of those dreams where you think things are real until you wake and then question if it was true or not. However, after a few seconds, I knew this one was a dream when they actually came after only the second time of calling.

Rascals – Circa 2008.

All work and no play make some writers … very dull boys, indeed.

As I have mentioned, I attended two writing workshops yesterday. However, as I was also going out in the evening, I wouldn’t have time to have done this roast had I not prepared it Friday night. And it is on the subject of writing workshops that I now wish to speak.

I love them. They are usually very good and I gain something from each I go to. The downside is, you sometimes come across some right arty-farty writers who are so far up their own arse, they could give themselves an enema.

Take the one I did last year. It was a great workshop at the Birmingham Museum Collection Centre – where all the exhibits are kept when not on display. There are literally hundreds of thousands of things, all in mothballs … including a collection of mothballs. Anyway, we were sent out to explore, choose an object and write about what inspired us.

Easy. You had things such as this …

And this …

And even this …

No problem with so many exhibits in this Aladdin’s Cave. No problem, unless you were Richard (real name changed). He came back and declared to the entire group that he had scoured the museum, looking for that special thing. In the end, he found it. There – waiting for him at the end of a dusty corridor. One, lonely, empty shelf. It was the only empty shelf in the museum but he chose it as his inspiration not because of what it held, but for the potential of what could be stored there.

Thing is, all the others in the group played a game of Emperor’s New Clothes and pandered to this pillock, clapping hands and commenting, “How clever,” and “How original.” I did bite my tongue at such pretentious crap but really, all I wanted to scream was “FUCK OFF!”

And that’s the downside of being a writer. Generally, most the people I meet are of a similar mind to me. However, in some writing circles there seems to be a huge desire to turn it into some kind of minority interest. Spouting complete bollocks while pretending they are the next literary or poetic genius, when really, they have absolutely nothing to say.

And that reminds me of something which was also in that very first roast …

Once again, from the Sunday Roast (12 October 2008)

I took part in my first ever poetry workshop this weekend. It was okay but I lost interest toward the end when it evolved into a self-indulgent discussion on “What is Poetry?” It would have been better if it wasn’t for the fifty-something woman who thought she was the bee’s-knees of poetry. In she floated, wearing a silken neck-scarf and arriving twenty minutes late. Next thing, she let her phone ring – twice, then proceeded to thrust her opinions without actually showing anything productive or original, herself. I must admit, I never trust women who wear silken neck scarves, indoors. What are they trying to hide? I think in the case of this one, it could have been her Adams Apple.

Blimey, I was bitchy back then, but things at these events never change. You see yesterday, as I was waiting for one of this years workshops, I spied a guy in his sixties waiting in reception and immediately, I could tell. I’d got him earmarked him as the potential knob and he didn’t let me down. The woman leading the workshop had only just begun to speak before this buffoon interrupted.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘could you explain a little about the layout of the session?’

The workshop leader looked perplexed. ‘I’m just about to do so.’ She’d only been speaking thirty seconds.

The idiot did it again a while later, asked if we should do something or other. Did he want to get up and lead the workshop? We had by now got an explanation for him being such an arse. He was a priest. Say no more. Then the best. Some poor lass, trying to do her job came round to take a few photos for the festival website. Guess who objected? Yes … Father Fuckhead.

‘I don’t want my photo plastered over the internet.,’ he spouted, full of pompous self-importance. When somebody said that the photographer had spoken about making sure he wasn’t in the shots, the priest wasn’t convinced. ‘But can I trust her to do that?’

Look, Mr Priest. If you don’t want you bloody photo taken during a workshop, leave the room.

Cretin.

Yet again from the very first Roast (12 October 2008)

I wasn’t going to bother reprinting this one but also from that first ever Sunday Roast, was this next bit. Not only that, it was my opening line.

I have to hold my hands up and say I haven’t had too much time for blogging this last week or so. Even when I have found some time, I have been struggling to get online as my eldest son keeps hogging the computer … in my room. I had to tell him to go just after midnight yesterday. Well, I did want to go to bed so I think I was justified.

As I say, I wasn’t going to include that because it is mundane and pretty boring. However, as I was compiling much of this on Friday … at eleven o’clock at night, he turns up and before I know it, has plonked himself at my computer.

Some things never change, do they?

Cheers.

Nick

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Locked In – Night Writing at the Locksmith’s House.

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October 2, 2012

I must have a liking for all night events on a weekend. A fortnight ago, I was ghost hunting at Woodchester Manor. Last Saturday, it was writing while deprived of sleep inside a historical building while taking part in an event laid on by the excellent Birmingham Book Festival. Unlike two weeks ago, I wasn’t actively seeking ghosts but still found many as there were plenty to experience with all the exhibits on view. And that’s what a ghost is, an image or echo of the past.

The Locksmith’s House – Willenhall, is a museum dedicated to the town’s once thriving lock-making industry. A working forge, period décor and furniture; who could not be inspired by such surroundings?

The Locksmith’s House – Willenhall. As seen during the day.

Many writers find they work well during the early hours. Let’s face it, this is a time when the kids, allegedly, are in bed and lucid thoughts can hopefully prevail over the weapons of mass distraction during a typical multi-tasked day. In fact, as a writer of so much dark fiction, it’s only once the house goes quiet that I can finally rest at ease – before the screaming begins on my laptop. Therefore, what better than a few hours after midnight in surroundings a little different to that which you are used to.

On Saturday, the setting was excellent and the group of writers assembled, were the nicest bunch I’ve ever done a workshop with. We were well-led on this night-time literary feast by Anna Lawrence-Pietroni, author of the novel, Ruby’s Spoon. Good, useful exercises, all managing to stimulate the mind and inspire creativity. As well as writing, the evening included a demonstration in the art of making a sliding bolt and other items at the forge. There was also a tour of the house plus toasting bread in front of an open fire at nearly four in the morning.

Middle of the night feast. Toast made the traditional way.

Being a writer whose tales often include a higher than average body count, I was delighted by the array of ready-made murder weapons at my disposal, should I choose to write historical fiction. The bolt from the forge, any number of tools and even the toasting fork would prove painful, positioned in the right place. There was also the gas lighting. Surely some devilment could transpire from a little tampering with a valve or two?

Those gas lights were a high point for me. They were something I’d never seen before. Holding a taper (burned too near the end for my liking) then hearing the pop as the ball ignites was an experience surely destined for a place in a short story, somewhere in the near future.

As for the writing? I have to admit, I found it hard going that night, which is unusual for me. I’d been struggling with a bad cold and nearly thought of crying off but am glad I didn’t. Besides, I’d already paid and I’m mean when it comes to cash.

I noted down many ideas for stories during the night but did flag as the hours grew long and dawn approached. This wasn’t through tiredness. My cold had, unfortunately, decided it was time to raise the temperature a bit and by the last exercise, my head was spinning and not with multiple plot lines, either.

There was a bed in the house, but this was for display purpose, only.

This is the second night writing event I have done and it surpassed that of last year. Hopefully, there will be more to come in the future. The Birmingham Book Festival is a fantastic event and one which writers local and beyond ought to have firmly written in their planners. I’d recommend it to all. You may even find a few ghosts of your own.

Cheers.

Nick

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