Just Like That

Things are better. The power of communion really is amazing. The generator has whirred back to life. The lights are back on. The clocks have started moving forward again. They stutter slightly, sure, but pothing's nerfect right?

Things haven't been resolved, but then what ever is? Do I know more about writing? No. Do I know more about myself? No. Am I a writer? I'm still not sure, but I am still writing. Also I'm thinking about future projects, feeling that excitement again. Next stop: getting cracking (hopefully).

This has been a response to Not Sure Anymore. Things have changed. As it often does, the Morecambe winds have cleansed the bad thoughts away. The only problem now is that the sea's anger seems somehow related to those lads messing around with the vending machine at Preston train station.

I'm not normal...

Scenes: Number 7

A lot's been said about chavs and their playing of loud music on public transport. The other day at Preston train station, however, things happened a little differently...

There were a couple of guys in the cafe watching a 50s B-movie on their laptop. It was really loud. The cliched tension music would have been audible all the way over the other side of the room, over all the chatter of coffee-drinking commuters and beverage machine steam-jets. Also, one of the men watching it was 'offering' a commentary. Very loudly. Just inane stuff, pointing out obvious crap like 'ooh he looks scared' or whatver.

I think I'd have preferred a chav...

Scene.