To Infinity and Beyond?

Today I had my meeting with Sam Burton, New Talent Executive for Screen East.  We had a really good chat about Screen East's DigiBytes (a.k.a. Digital Shorts) and Digital Nation (previously Digital Shorts Plus) Schemes, had a chance to run through the application and selection process, as well as a general chat about my aims going forward - it was quite a lot to pack into a half hour meeting but well worth it.  Screen East have now uploaded all the info you require to submit your application - so if you fall under the Screen East area, go here to take a look.

However, behind the cool, creative exterior I presented today (!) lay a mere catalogue of disasters which, at one point, almost convinced me fate was steering me away from filmmaking forever - well, the meeting at Screen East anyway.

Cock-up #1: 

I decided to go to Norwich (Screen East Office location) by train - that way I could get some work done on the way.  I decided this last week and bagged myself a fantastic bargain in the form of an advance ticket. Brilliant.  The whole travel thing had been bugging me though - so I checked my itinerary/tickets on Sunday night only to discover the very helpful lady at my station had given me tickets to IPSWICH. 

Cock-Up #2:

I returned to my station on Monday morning (08:55 to be precise) and was assisted by a very helpful gentleman who informed my that although his colleague had quite possibly given me the incorrect ticket, as it was an advance ticket I was not able to change it - unless I extended it to go to Norwich for an additional charge of £10 per ticket (I had two singles). However, taking that particular train would have meant I was 1.5 hours late for my meeting - not a great start.  So, after no deliberation, I purchased ANOTHER ticket (again 2 singles which were cheaper than a return - wtf?).  When I asked what I should do with the Ipswich ticket the very helpful gentleman suggested I sell it onto someone at Liverpool Street Station.

Cock-Up #3:

Unfortunately, I didn't have time to bootleg my spare tickets this morning as my underground line virtually ground to a halt at every station between Baker Street and Liverpool Street due to bearing the brunt of the Circle line "not working effectively".  When I fought my way off the tube, towards the mainline station, cursing my choice of footwear, I had exactly 3 minutes to get up to the concourse, find the right platform and get on the train to Norwich. In my haste, I nearly broke my arm whilst tripping on the stairs and grabbing the handrail very hard. Didn't drop my iPhone though. Phew.

Cock-Up #4:

The train was late coming into Liverpool Street.  Consoled myself by rubbing my arm better like a five year old. 

Cock-Up #5:

Off we trundled towards Norwich.  Speedily we ran until Chelmsford, where we sat for 20 minutes due to "platform congestion" - don't they have industrial vats of Vicks or Olbas Oil to solve that? At least arm is feeling a bit better now.

Cock-Up #6:

ETA announced as 11:48.  Meeting starts at 12:00 in the city centre - a city I don't know. 

Cock-Up #7:

Arrived at 11:53. Nearly broke my ankle running for a taxi. Cursed my choice of footwear, once again. Rubbed my ankle whilst tearing paperwork out of my file to phone ahead, then realised I hadn't told the driver where I wanted to go. (You mean there are no psychic cabbies in Norfolk?).

Cock-Up #8:

Every single traffic light turned red. Ankle still hurts a lot.

But I did get to the meeting and everything was just fine - and other than someone sitting next to me on the tube eating an orange and spitting out all the the pips, the journey home was slightly less eventful. 

On arriving home I saw the news and a report about the poor Frank McGarahan who had been murdered in Norwich during the early hours of Sunday morning - he ending up dying where I had been dithering over whether to buy lunch from Tesco or just grab a cab from the rank, and head back to the station.

Today's cock-ups were swiftly smacked into perspective.

At last - The Film!

I have possibly had the most stressful few days of my life over the past 48 hours - yesterday saw me car-less and Mac-less. I now have the car back (after a very large bill - leaking coolant/cambelt/main dealer cr*p & spiel) but as for Macbook...it's gone into the Apple Hospital for a week or so to have a new case - and hence the fact my formatting on Tenacious Me is all over the place.

Anyway, this would have been bad enough apart from the fact that I discovered my uploaded competition film file was indeed corrupt - a nagging feeling I had in the pit of my stomach since uploading it last week. So where are all my film files? On my Mac in Apple General - but backed up of course. On Time Machine - a Mac back-up system totally impenetrable by anything other than a Mac. Unless of course you have a crack IT Team, like I do. So, after The IT Team had recovered a useable file, I then had to upload it via Slaptop, which just took forever. The IT Team only use Linux for their stuff and I really don't understand the whole cute penguin thing so couldn't use their hardware. ;)

Anyway, heartache aside, it's there - the very nice, helpful person from Tank Films told me so this evening.

So without further ado - have a watch if it would please you to do so. You need to click on the cute turquoise square crystal thingy which lets you view all the films including mine. HERE is the link. Enjoy. Please. :0)

Never Rains but it Pours

I recently succumbed to the deadly tummy bug lurgy thingy which has been a total killer. It steam-rollered me during the early hours of Sunday morning and I have only just begun to function properly today.  I still ache from head to foot but that is down to the fact that around 1am on Monday I stumbled out of bed in a hallucinatory state, convinced I was going to be sick for the tenth time that hour, lurched towards the bathroom, missed the door handle and face planted into The Kid's door with a rather loud crash. At least that's what my Miss Marple braincell thinks happened but I can't verify the details - I just woke up in a heap wondering what all the noise had been, why I was kissing the door and indeed, how long I had been there. I managed to cut my shoulder, graze my arm and nearly break my nose, which is still a lovely blackened shade along with the pretty, dark "oops, my eyeliner really slipped" looking eyes. Not so much a sexy, smouldering look, as a bruised, smoked kipper effect. ;(

On an up note, last night I finally managed to complete the rough edit for my Swarovski/Tank Films comp entry No.1, so now I know exactly what footage I need to shoot in a couple of weeks' time to complete it.  I'm quite happy with it thus far so hope things will carry on in that vein.  I also got a lovely email the other day informing me of my successful ticket application for the VISA London 2012 Party in August.  Acts are to be announced but it promises to be on par with Live Aid (1985).  It's a bit of a double edged sword as it is happening the day I was meant to be returning from the Edinburgh Festival but I guess I'll just have to head home a bit earlier.  

So, me and 39,999 other peeps on The Mall will be "celebrating the hand-over of the Olympic flag from Bejing to London".  Anyone else going?  Be sure to wave.

Working Girl

I'm beginning to believe I live a very surreal life.  Scrub that.  I do live a very surreal life.  Take the previous day as an example.  

In the last 24 hours I have interviewed Kris Marshall, Robert Webb, Ella Smith, Neil LaBute, Joanna Page (I also competed with her for oxygen stakes due to similar high levels of hyperactivity), chatted to Alison Steadman, Gok Wan, Ruth Jones & Mackenzie Crook to name but a few, nodded a 'smiley nod' or two to the very kind paps who let me stick my microphone into their pics, arrived home in one piece, managed around 4 solid hours' sleep, then proceeded to wipe/pick weetabix/scrambled egg/bread/milk off my clothes/out of my hair at various intervals, moments of which were also interspersed with changing nappies and cleaning up fur balls.  Confused?  Hell, I hardly know where I'm at these days, let alone you.

Let me explain.  It's all down to my new 'job' - at least the interviews and chats are, not necessarily the food/nappy/fur ball stuff which are all down to The Kid and Cat respectively - at least I think it was in that order.  I digress.  Anyway, I am now presenting & interviewing for Theatre 24/7, an online theatre channel who cover previews/premieres of West End musicals and plays.  

So, after 'Marguerite' last week, last night was the turn of 'Fat Pig', written and directed by Neil LaBute and the second in his trilogy of plays.  There was certainly a clutch of hardcore crits there last night so I'm sure the reviews will be going to press soon (if not already).  Personally I really enjoyed the show - funny but uncomfortable, self-conscious but brazen - however, I'm not the critic here, just the talky girl. All I'll say is go see it for some terrific writing and classic performances.

And on that note, I'm now going to put in a classic performance of a person sleeping heavily. Not like a baby, I'll add - whoever coined that phrase should be shot.  Or given a baby to look after for a night or so.

Until next time.

Working 9 til 5...I wish

And breathe.

A whirlwind of occurrences, that's the life I lead.  Well, only sometimes these days, anyway.

The week went something like this:

Monday - The Kid was still not very well having just parted company with a sicky, coldy bug but still managed to soldier on through his 8 month check up with The Health Visitor.  He smiled at all the right things, burped loudly followed by a bellow of giggles, frowned when The Health Visitor tickled him under the chin, bobbed up and down to imaginary music and clapped on demand, and then when he got bored he chewed his shoe and farted. I then dropped him off at nursery whilst I headed home to try and get some work done.  It's amazing when you are writing how quickly nursery/school pick up time comes round...6 pages written; 9 calls made; 7 emails responded to.

Tuesday - The Kid took a backwards step in his recovery.  All plans - blown out.  Spent day with ass hovering over sofa, wishing I could just sit down for two seconds without mopping up snot, puke or rocking back and forth...0 pages written; 0 calls made; 0 emails read let alone responded to.

Wednesday - The Kid made a fantastically remarkable recovery and had so much energy all day I bit the bullet and decided to take him to his swimming class.  After a hard hour in the gym I dashed home to make a few calls whilst my Mum was still enthralled with her Grandson.  Perfick...0 pages written; 4 calls made; all emails read; 1 child knackered after a hard swim.

Thursday - first of all, thanks must go to the most courteous Mark for organising another little Blogette/Facebook get-together.  Yet again, a  very enjoyable afternoon which - horror of horrors - turned into an early evening minus child for me.  My system was so shocked by the lack of The Kid's bathtime "splash-splash", the fight to get him into his sleep suit afterwards and then the gentle prodding to keep him awake for his bottle, that I felt the need to consume more than my original 'just the one'...3 new chapters outlined; 5 calls made; 2 meetings attended; 1 social gathering attended; email read & responded to; 1 very odd journey home having laughed out [very] loud at my book on many occasions and then realising I wasn't the only person in the carriage. :0)

Friday - The Kid's music class and this week he emerged as star pupil due to his innate ability to 'bop' like a home boy whilst clapping furiously and, for the most part, totally in time to the music.  He was so immersed in the class that he only twice realised I was sitting beside him on the floor.  If I'd only thought to take MacBook with me I could have done a bit of writing. The only foot stomping occurred when the bubbles stopped and apparently the teacher felt so awful looking at his big, sad eyes, she carried on with the bubbles for a while longer, just for him.  I fear a future actor and/or muso in the making.  Either that or a Dictator...3 pages written (somehow); 0 calls made; all email read; 1 very proud mum.

Saturday - Amidst all the very tedious household stuff that has to be undertaken every weekend, I noted that Zone Horror have "Cut! The 2008 Horror Short Film Competition" running.  This is sponsored by C4's Fright Fest  and is worth up to £5k in winnings for a 2 minute film.  Closing date for entries is Friday 13th (!) June 2008 - so all you genre-istas out there - get going!  0 pages written; 2 chapters outlined; 0 calls made; 0 emails answered; 1 very domesticated-out mum.

Sunday - hasn't passed yet.  Anything could happen...may check emails.

And breathe.

2008 - Take No Prisoners

Here's one I wrote earlier...the 1st of January to be precise.  And forgot to publish it.  Ho hum. Back soon with more of an update.  Promise.

And there it went. Ta-ra to 2007; ay-oop to 2008.

Not sure what you all did but I spent most of the 'celebrations' mopping snot dribbling from The Kid's nose, cursing the fireworks that woke him up from his boy-flu-induced slumber, rocking him back to sleep in one arm whilst transferring the millionth file from Old Slaptop to New MacBook. Hours of fun still to have but I need to purchase a few bits of software so I can actually do things. Hours of fun, like I said.  Ah, yes, those will be the hours I don't really have to waste...

Well, whatever 2007 left you with, may 2008 only expand and improve.  Unless it was an STD - in which case I don't wish for your sake it expands, just improves.  

Heroes...

...of the Scribe Strike. No matter which side of the fence you fall, you've gotta laugh at this. Splendid fun.

Oh Guys...

Judging by the comments and emails I have received since my recent post: it's great to be missed!

Honestly guys & gals: eaten by cats, lost in 'Lost', rewriting 'War and Peace', run away with a sexy paediatrician, still giving birth? Just to explain - this is exactly what takes up all my living, breathing and [lack of] sleeping hours at the moment...

One, two, three....ahhhh. [Bucket please...]

My goodness...

I have tried my hardest - and usually failed - to keep up to date with everyone else's blogs, but from what I have read, it looks like everyone has been really busy in cyberscribospace. I deeply apologise for the extreme lack of updates from this end. I am still alive - I think.

It's been manic. A learning curve. A waking nightmare. A total headf***. But he's gorgeous all the same. However, I have discovered the perils of having a baby - he has a social diary like I have never, ever had myself:

Monday - 'rest day' [i.e. yoga with Mummy, playmat with Mummy, singing with Mummy, repeatedly making silly noises with Mummy, sensory book time with Mummy, shopping with Mummy, cleaning with Mummy, hanging out the washing with Mummy, gardening with Mummy, "This Morning" with Phillip & Fern (and Mummy).]
Tuesday - Massage class (Baby Massage, of course)
Wednesday - Swimming class
Thursday - ante-natal mates coffee & cakes/general moan session/babies all cry together etc
Friday - Music class

Other times are taken up with the 'rest day' agenda - all of which are carried out in five minute intervals as The Kid doesn't have much patience beyond that. Notice I have dropped the Colic from his name? Well, he still suffers but it's mainly reflux-related. At one point, after a fairly terrible day of chaos everywhere we went, I christened him The 'Colic, Reflux And Pandemonium' Kid. However, I fear sticking to that acronym would create an unfair tag for his future, methinks.

At our Baby Massage class the other day, The Mothers were discussing when they were planning on going back to work: January for some, May for others, the rest in between. The thing is, I don't feel as though I have stopped to be honest. I have a little notebook next to my bed which is full of feed times, feed amounts, reflux times and nappy contents - the description that is, not the actual contents. At the other end of the aforementioned notebook, however, are pages and pages of one-liners, character notes, vague and not-so-vague story outlines, random ideas, snippets of dialogue, great 'newly discovered' words to use and a complete outline for a book which is, as I type, like my boy, in it's early infancy. There was some sort of method in my midnight madness when I decided to keep both in the same notebook - there is no way in the world I would lose the Sh*t, Eat and Sleep Log, so there's no way to lose the writing notes either. Smart l'il me. I also generally have a spare dummy attached to my mobile or purse these days. Ditto, not losing either. I always know where the dummy is.

So, The Kid - he's good. Looks more like a two year old, has been randomly teething for a month now, has a false 'look at me NOW!' cry, laughs uncontrollably at me when he wakes during the night (really not funny...) is desperately trying to walk, has a favourite toy he named Bebo, has finished his third PhD and probably logs into Facebook when I'm not watching. I have some great new photos, some of which I will upload soon for all the cyberaunts and uncs to see - I'm just waiting for his replica cover of Nirvana's 'Nevermind' to arrive. He is quite taken with TV - the little guy really knows what he likes - but I fear he may end up the youngest ever Daytime TV Controller. Now, don't get me wrong, he liked Ruth and Eamonn over the summer but as soon as he heard Phillip and Fern's voices again after their return from summer break, his little face lit up.

You know, coming to think of it, maybe he didn't shout "Bebo" at his toy all those weeks ago. Perhaps it was BBC?

Hope you're all well.

BSSC - Round 2

Well, must admit, that has surprised me...I didn't get through to the next round...did you?

Now, please let me explain before you suspect I am all big headed and think I'm brillo-dillo etc. The script I submitted this year for the BSSC was far, far stronger than last year's submission...and they're not necessarily my words - but - it's all good, believe it or not! Why? Because I don't need to hand over my copyright to two shorts I really wanted to direct myself...See? There's always a reason.

So, how y'all doin' out there, anyway? And very heartfelt Congrats to those who got through into the next round - well done, me hearties! May you triumph over them all!

Oh dear...

Well, if it was a long time before, then it's a whole lifetime ago now. My last update, that is.

Up to my toots in dirty nappies and winning the tally on arguments with everyone in the medical profession - yep, that's me. I have been delicately informed that this first child of mine has been a "baptism of fire" and "the next one will be so much easier - you wait and see". Yeah, well folks, you can wait and wait and wait cos The Colic Kid is The One and Only as far as I am concerned. Far too much hassle and worry, these little sick uns.

ANYWAY. Moving on.

Whilst I was sleeping (in blogland perhaps; in reality - I just wish), I was tagged with a meme by that lurvly Bishop man...however, anything that requires more than 2 minutes of my time (apart from sh*tty nappies, my bed covered in baby puke at 4am and a cat disgruntled 24/7 by the lack of sleep...shame...) will have to wait a tiny little bit. Perhaps over the Bank Holiday weekend I will have five minutes to consider this little meme.

In the meantime...VIRGIN MEDIA! WHY IS MY F*ING TV SERVICE NOT WORKING - AGAIN - YOU BUNCH OF MONEY STEALING, INADEQUATE, RIP OFF SHYSTERS?

Ahem...my son is most irate at the lack of Teletubbies and I am most annoyed at anything that makes my son irate...you know, anything for an easier life...like knee caps. Comprendez? Good.

Lost the plot. Again. Til the next time: have a good Bank Hols one and all. Mwah, mwah.

x

BSSC - Round 1

Well, it's been a bit of along time again...

Many thanks to Lucy who very kindly informed me that I have got through the first round of the British Short Screenplay Competition! Y'see, as a Mum of two, she completely knows where I am at the moment with regards to an incredible lack of cybertime - and lack of real time, come to think of it.

Well done to Lucy too, as she has also got through and many congratulations to all fellow bloggers (such as Jason and Elinor) who also got through the 1st round! Anyone else? Let me know!

The Colic Kid has been taking up far too much of my time recently. Apart from the dirty nappies (he cries as soon as he's got a dirty one and for the second time he managed to fart a poo at me during a 4am nappy change), reflux vomiting (like a fountain), vinegar breath (acid smell from the reflux), constant feeds (it eases the reflux) and colicky episodes, he is a delight. He's smiling loads, giggling, trying to say 'Hello', copies me waving, lifts his hands and arms to be picked up, loves Teletubbies and the juggling Specsavers advert, looks as though he'll be crawling soon, tries to sit up by himself and is just about to embark on his first PhD - ok, maybe not that, but he's pretty smart all the same.

Anyway, got to dash as that's my cybertime up. The Colic Kid has just finished an equation and needs his next bottle...

Well, well, well.

Oh jeez, it's been a long time since I posted last. Where the f*%* did those weeks go? I'll tell ya where...

Well, first of all - in a chain of stranger than the strangest of strange events - something mightily odd happened. I got a phonecall, completely out of the blue, from a friend of a friend who also happens to be an Exec Producer. Small talk aside (I haven't seen him for a year), we then get down to the nitty gritty of his call - would I be interested in meeting up with An Associate Of His to discuss being part of a writing team on a new co-pro ongoing drama destined for ITV? Bemused by everything he's said, I agreed a coffee and a chat would very much be in order, and we arranged a meeting for the very next day.

Next morning, the sun was shining, the barista got my order right, the tubes ran like a dream, and I toddled into Soho with loads of time to chill and check my 'scribefolio', but still a little perplexed by how my name had entered the Execs' radar.

Then they arrived: Blackberrys in one hand, linen jackets in the other; we did the whole Mwah Mwah thing (I really miss that) and got down to business. So, it turns out I gave a really great off the cuff pitch a year or so ago to Exec Producer (I don't really remember it to be honest) and then very heavily voiced my opinion on the lack of US-style writing teams in the UK, and purely based on that plus an early spec script, they wanted my input and attachment to their Project.

We discussed the recent bout of dramas including 'Talk to Me' (which I ended up luuuuving) "True Dare Kiss" , "Cape Wrath" , "Dirt" and "Jekyll" and then they filled me in on all the pros and cons of the Project - which is absolutely brilliant, I tell you. Well, if that wasn't all gobsmackingly fab enough, they were actually looking for a verbal commitment there and then when my mobile rang, but being in a meeting of such excitement I obviously switched the call to voicemail. To cut all the boring contractual bits out, Exec went to the loo and Associate went to get more coffee in - and I checked my voicemail. What I heard was just beyond belief.

An old colleague friend of mine had left a message telling me his kids' TV series - for which I had written a spec script or two - had now been signed and greenlighted (green lit??) and he wanted me to pen 6 Eps. I mean, can you believe it? Was I having a dream day or what? Forty eight hours later I am signing two fantastic contracts and Exec Producer is asking me to pitch "a few more ideas" in a couple of weeks.

Wow.

All that, plus a month old baby who cries for 75% of each day due to the reflux and colic he's had since the day he was born. And if you believe any of the [work stuff] above I'm a better writer than I feel at the moment...

Sorry if you felt a little envious - but there really was no need. I lied. Big fat lies. I mean, come on - when do the tubes all run on time AND a barista gets your order right? I had to have a laugh somehow as the mass sleep deprivation is really getting to me...

Plus, if thetvcontroller can do it...

;)

A Googled Virgin?

Much like the lovely, Lucy, I was fascinated to find out I get quite a few interesting daily Google search referrals - in my case, from peeps wondering what is happening at our favourite Compagnie du Jour - Virgin Media.

A bit like one of those little miniature disclaimers at the bottom of emails, I have to state now that I do not work for Virgin Media, have absolutely nothing to do with the Company and am merely voicing my own personal opinions as a paying customer of theirs, oh, and if the contents of this post are not intended for you please return it to the owner immediately. Huh? Anyway...

Back in VergingMeeeeejaLand, sorry - Virgin Media Land - I would like to report a vast improvement in their customer service and efficiency levels, which, after years of torture in ntl:Hell, comes as a breath of fresh air. Ok, we still don't have our beloved Sky channels back [yet] but there is promise of a return and in the not too distant future.

There is another merger/takeover bid simmering at the moment (as reported here) which is down to the fact that many peeps think Virgin Media are prime swoop-worthy material having lost so many subscribers due to The Sky Fiasco - i.e. they'll go without a fight and for half the price.

In my humble opinion, if this does happen no-one will really be able to take any of them seriously anyway: I mean, how many Multi-Nationals does it take to keep a TV Channel?

But that is when the customer gains the upperhand.

Be still and patient my Skyless friends - the sweet slurp of success will be ours to taste again soon.

Failing that, call up Customer Services and have a whinge - see what you get chucked into your package for free... ;)

Where's the Pause Button?

"Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels." Linda Ellerbee

Too many demands on my time, not enough hours in the day and and no energy to write into the wee small hours. That's the week so far.

I have been desperately trying to turn round the most recent short for submission to the BSSC, but it managed to take on a life of it's own whilst I was contemplating my belly button still being an 'innie', and is now running at 18 pages. Too long for a short? Not sure - it's borderline. Red Pen needs to come out to play, I think. I also completed two more outlines over the weekend/this week so far, but I have put them away for now as I need them to fester a bit. I may pop them and Red Pen into my hospital bag so Red Pen can do it's most damning whilst I'm in labour. Perhaps not.

Talking of labour, I am increasingly having strange pains here and there and apparently the head is 3/5ths engaged - what that really means with regard to timescale, is another thing. All I know is, I feel as though I am really working against the clock. A clock that will permanently scream, cry, want feeding, help and constant attention. And that'll just be The Glenster ;0)

So for now, instead of blogging I am going to get Red Pen and do some short shortening - until next time, here's a freebie: Broadcast is re-launching itself with a new look and content, and from 17th May to 3oth May the website will be free to access.

(P. S. Yippee for Eastenders. Le Mitchell is going to be able do something other than dunk Beale's head soon! I am totally beside myself.)

Live From Mars

I'm convinced.

This morning I woke up to find I had crossed into my dual universe. I have made a quantum leap and didn't even try very hard. Everyone looks the same, hell, they even sound the same, but other than The Glenster and Millie The Cat (who seem to have remained normal), some strange shift has occurred.

No mail was delivered this morning. This was the first indication that all was not what it seemed. We always get mail - even if it is just one of those useless bundles of 'Revolutionary Home Helpers TM' crap that Postpeople get paid extra to indirectly stuff into our recycling boxes. But never mind, I thought, and off we went to the hospital for 09:30 for my 'final' scan and appointment with The Consultant. We arrived at the antenatal dept like so many times before, but this time I was accosted for a sample. Now, I have never had to provide one before (other than for my normal midwife visits) so I was a little confused. The midwife/nurse person slammed against her seat, totally aghast, thrusted an empty sample bottle into my hand and flicked me towards the door and toilets. There's nothing like peeing on demand.

Although I was the second appointment of the day, I counted 4 other couples going in to see The Consultant in front of me. Maybe I was doing one of my invisibility tricks? The Consultant eventually saw me at 11:00. We did all the niceties, but The Consultant seemed a little different to normal, almost a shell of his usual self; I had my blood pressure checked (another thing that has never happened on a 'Consultant visit'), and then up on the couch for the final scan. The measurements still indicated a larger than average baby with ridiculously long legs, and the CCAM on the baby's lung, although not regressed totally, was still pretty small. Good stuff.

Then the Seven Dimensional Einsteinian Hyperspherical Universe nodded it's head: did I want to pick a date for induction now, or wait for my next appointment with The Consultant? Exsqueeze me? Next appointment - that's when I'm due, surely? Induction? Possible Caesarean? WTF? Have I been living on another planet for the last 35+ weeks? Obviously.

The induction is mainly for the safety of the baby, which I can go with, but as I have always reckoned I'll be early anyway, I have never considered it. Now I am determined to have this baby early.

I'm off to do some research into ways of encouraging the little blighter out before the NHS Army wage 'The War Of The Bump' on me. If anyone knows any old wives tales', helpful tips, safe ways of ensuring an early birth (all after 37 weeks), please feel free to comment below.

I can't believe it's only lunchtime.

It's Bank Holl-eee-day

Only click on this link if you wish to procrastinate more than normal. You have been warned.

A Very Annoying Little Game

Happy May Day!

Yipee! It's the 1st of May - one of my most favourite days in the year. Hell, it even features heavily in my 'pet' screenplay. (As opposed to featuring heavily in my pet, Screenplay ;)

Call it the Celt in me, but there's something so special about May Day, or Beltane as it was know in the pre-Christian [Celtic] epoch. Beltane marks the start of the pastoral Summer season and is one of the cross-quarter days in the Celtic calendar - these are days that signal the beginning of a new season and are half way between an equinox and a solstice. Special days.

There is always so much raw, unchannelled energy around on May 1st - a negative example of which was the May Day Riots of 2000 in London, Glasgow, Doncaster & Edinburgh. Nicer examples are the many festivals held around the UK over the May Bank Holiday weekend celebrating with Morris dancers, maypole dancers, music, good company, food and laughter.

This year, there is also a Full Moon on May 2nd, so in addition to the energy of May Day itself, we will have the lunar influence on the emotions with the touch of insanity and insomnia it sometimes brings.

I may be very wrong, but interesting days ahead. If there was ever a week to have/not to have local elections (dependant on which 'side' you're on), I reckon this is it.

So, here are my instructions for today:

Take a break - in fact take a whole lunch break - stand outside in the sun, shut your eyes and breathe in. A. Big. Deep. Breath. Feel the energy, and the promise of splendid things to come.

Silly Friday

Take five, and slip into the weekend with a smile and a bit of Monty Python. Enjoy ;)

Music - the Food of Words?

I have been writing a lot of late, in fact, so much I don't really know what to do with all the pieces of paper.

You see folks, for every centimetre the bouncing baby grows I gain pounds in weight and lose stones of creativity, and apart from 'to do' lists and letters to various companies, I haven't been able to write a thing. Until the last few weeks, that is - when I haven't been able to stop penning weird poetry and song lyrics.

Lyrics are a 'comfortable' thing for me to do. Once upon a time, writing them was a full time 'job' whilst co-composing for TV, Theatre and Film, and so the last few weeks have been like visiting a really wonderful, long-lost friend. Once I start 'pallying up' with them, I can't stop. Once I get a theme in my head I have to get the words down double quick otherwise I risk being driven insane by hooks, bridges and 'wrong' lyrics battering my already crowded brain. Then I lie awake going over the same verses again and again, praying it doesn't sound like a Stock, Aitken & Waterman cover version (I have never written anything like that in my life but there could always be The One that slips through my grey matter, so I have to be sure).

Staying with music - something I have noticed recently is what the baby moves a lot to. The Kaiser Chiefs' "Love's Not A Competition", Turin Brakes' "Painkiller", Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars", Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" and particular favourites, Nirvana's "Come As You Are", Tom Petty's "Free Fallin'" Queens of the Stone Age's "No-one Knows" & "First It Giveth" and most tracks from the "American Beauty" soundtrack. Quite an eclectic mix for a "minus year old".

Funnily enough they, plus a few other tracks, form one of the i-pod playlists I played at quite a few decibels every morning whilst commuting from the Glenster's parents' house. Sitting in the nose to tail traffic over the M25 at junction 18, I would always be looking foward to picking my way across the remnants of my house and snapping orders at builders all day. It was inevitably a decibel or so louder on the way back after a day of fun and games.

Music has always been a huge influence in my life, having been brought up in the industry and most of my family still involved in varying degrees. When I write non-musical matter, I always have to have a 'theme tune' to work to; in fact, sometimes, along with an olfactory trigger that's all that influences the conception of a whole darn new world. Is that normal?

So, try as I may, I have listened to so many musical influences over the last few months, hoping that one of them would propel me towards my laptop, screenplay ideas gushing from every orifice - OK, maybe just the one good idea would do. Actually, ideas I have loads of - it's just doing it and formulating it that's the problem at the moment as I have a concentration span about as long as a flea's dick. Perhaps after the baby is born I will whack on a playlist, go smell the roses in the garden and see what happens...

So what do you need to write? Without what, would you be stymied? Do you need to work in total silence or do you write more in public places? What influences you to start over and hit the white space with Courier?