MaW’s Blog

Weekends are such fragile things. Whilst fairly clearly defined in my life at the moment as the time from leaving work on a Friday to going to bed on a Sunday, they take on a quality all of their own. ‘I’ll do it at the weekend’ becomes a common thought, and of course it inevitably results in weekends having far too much to do, leaving apparently no room for spontaneity in what I do during them.

No such thing, actually happens. The plan this weekend was to go and see Richard and fit his CD-RW drive. That bit went off okay. The plan was also to write some of my uk100k novel and try and get some of it into a state whereby I could upload it and show that I’m not quite as inept an author as people might think (or rather, as I might portray myself to be - although I might be that inept, I don’t know).

This weekend’s plan disruptor came in the form of a telephone call. These things often do — either that or a message transmitted at the inconvenience of large numbers of electrons over the marvellous thing which we term the Internet. But this weekend it was a telephone call. The instigator of this telephone call is, occasionally confusingly, also named Matt, and the upshot of it all was that on Saturday night a policeman came to the door and took me away.

I’ll hasten to add that he was an off duty policeman, and we were going nowhere more sinister than his house, where much cat-stroking, games playing and DVD-watching were on the agenda.

So now I’m back, since Matt’s working nights, and thinking about getting on with what I originally planned for the weekend. But I’m blogging instead. How useful is that, eh?

Oh, and I found out that Katie Melua’s first UK tour includes a gig at the Cambridge Corn Exchange, so I’m going to go see her. Anybody want to come with me?

I miss Matt’s cat already.