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Fic, feet, and Sefton Council
Aug. 6th, 2003 06:05 pmBlargh. Boring day. Didn't go out at all, and all I did was type up letters and write the world's most boring article. Something about Sefton and European funding. I wrote it, and even I can't remember what it was about. The highlight of my day was the unexpectedly good chicken sandwich I bought on a whim. My life is so interesting. There reached a point where I was so bored, I actually got out a piece of paper and a pen and planned the Fic From Hell.
As an aside - I have decided that "the Fic From Hell" no longer refers to a particular fic. It simply means the most painful of the fics I am writing at the moment. Which is not to say I don't enjoy writing the damn things. I do. Why on earth would I write them, giving up on sleep in the process, if I didn't like them? But I think I have written all the fun bits of this fic; now comes the shoe-leather. As in, this bit happened and that bit happened, and those were fun to write, but something has to happen in between, and spelling it out is a chore.
But yes. I now have a piece of A4 paper covered in scribble. It represents my sole achievement for the day, unless you count another article, this one about a Beatles tribute band. I have no idea whether any of the crap I come out with will make it into the newspaper anyway, so just... blah.
Today is technically the hottest day of the year, but it's cloudy and overcast, so I hoped there wouldn't be so many people coming back from the beach. I was wrong. There were hundred of them. I wouldn't mind, if only they weren't all scallies. And they are all scallies. Why that must be the case, I have no idea. Contrary to the Gospel according to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kittysplitter, I do not think there is a very easy way to define a scally. It's something more than bad dress sense, although there is that. It's something about the way a person's mind works that makes them a scally. The one rule is, if you think it is a good thing to be one, you are one. Full stop.
And that is everything. I am off to attempt to surgically remove my feet. I hate sandals. I hate them. I've got blisters and my ankles have given way again; if I can walk tomorrow, I will be very surprised. In any case, I'm wearing my boots. That way at least I get to defend my poor mistreated feet against the world.
La fin.
As an aside - I have decided that "the Fic From Hell" no longer refers to a particular fic. It simply means the most painful of the fics I am writing at the moment. Which is not to say I don't enjoy writing the damn things. I do. Why on earth would I write them, giving up on sleep in the process, if I didn't like them? But I think I have written all the fun bits of this fic; now comes the shoe-leather. As in, this bit happened and that bit happened, and those were fun to write, but something has to happen in between, and spelling it out is a chore.
But yes. I now have a piece of A4 paper covered in scribble. It represents my sole achievement for the day, unless you count another article, this one about a Beatles tribute band. I have no idea whether any of the crap I come out with will make it into the newspaper anyway, so just... blah.
Today is technically the hottest day of the year, but it's cloudy and overcast, so I hoped there wouldn't be so many people coming back from the beach. I was wrong. There were hundred of them. I wouldn't mind, if only they weren't all scallies. And they are all scallies. Why that must be the case, I have no idea. Contrary to the Gospel according to
kittysplitter, I do not think there is a very easy way to define a scally. It's something more than bad dress sense, although there is that. It's something about the way a person's mind works that makes them a scally. The one rule is, if you think it is a good thing to be one, you are one. Full stop.And that is everything. I am off to attempt to surgically remove my feet. I hate sandals. I hate them. I've got blisters and my ankles have given way again; if I can walk tomorrow, I will be very surprised. In any case, I'm wearing my boots. That way at least I get to defend my poor mistreated feet against the world.
La fin.