1) It's a very windy day and 2) Someone's given the family at number two a new wind-chime for christmas.
It's a gigantic, roughly-shaped (do I mean rustic?) metal heart hung with...what? Tin cans and tuning forks by the look of it...and it's dangling outside their front door.
It sounds as if someone is walking up and down the road shaking a bag of spanners. Apart from when the wind blows directly at my open window - that's when it sounds like someone is shaking a bag of spanners in my fucking FACE!
Aargh! Aargh! Aargh!
|Shut up, you bastards!|
My ears seem to be fastening on the jangling noise the more I try to tune it out. Stupid, uptight ears!
I suppose I'll get used to it eventually. I can concentrate and write steadily through drumming raindrops or traffic noises - it's just the sounds that my ears aren't used to that hold me up.
Like drilling. You know, that shrill, groaning, vibrating noise made by someone trying to drill through a hard exterior wall. During which, they pause every so often to make you think they've finished - when in fact they're just letting their drill cool down before off they go again. I hate that noise.
And howling. That noise made by a great big stupid dog that has been left alone in the house all day long. Some animals genuinely seem to believe that if they howl long enough and despairingly enough then their family will come back and love them again. It's the unending sound of misery. And after a while you can't help wondering whether the dog has hurt itself in some way and you ought to break in and rescue it. I hate that noise.
If I'm honest, a small, insecure part of me had also started to wonder why I never went to see daringly-titled shows. And why had I never eaten tapas? What was tapas anyway?
|Google says it's olives and cheese|
And - most distracting of all - is the noise made by my own children during the school holidays. The very second I open my laptop, the six year old is certain to materialize at my side and say something like, "I've made up an Angry Birds game. Will you play it with me? I'm going to be the mighty eagle and you're the bad piggy - and I have to dive at you like this..." (Headbutts self in stomach.) No, there's no writing my way through that one.
I suppose all this is to say that I'm missing my writing time now. I've had a lovely christmas (they gave me a jumper with a rabbit on and some new boots) but I'm starting to feel the itch of needing to make stuff up and put words down. And I'm wondering how easy it'll be to pick up the threads of my story again.
I can see by my blog entries from earlier this year that I'd reached 30,000 words by the end of January 2012 - and I'd like to reach the same target by the end of this January too. That means I'd be on course to complete book three in the autumn of 2013. Right. I've done around 15,000 so far, which means I have to come up with a mere 500 words a day between now and the end of January. Perfectly possible - whether I'm being headbutted by mighty eagles or not.
Oooh...blog update! I just went downstairs for a cup of coffee and some tapas (all right, toast) and now that I'm back up here - next to the open window - it seems that the family at number two have dismantled the monumentally loud wind-chime after only a couple of hours jangling. The power of my thought waves is mighty indeed. Can we forget I ranted? Um - happy christmas!