Erupting shed cats…

24 03 2010

Ooops, been a while.  I know it’s been a while because it was black bin day again last week, and I thought ‘Oooh, haven’t blogged since last black bin day.’  And since I thought that, the blue bin’s been emptied.  Isn’t this interesting?  Can you guess which bin’s going to be emptied next week, boys and girls?

Busy, busy, busy – Shed 3 is done, and it’s now ‘resting’.  Or ‘brewing’.  No, ‘fermenting’, that’s better.  It’s almost time to go through it one last time before sending it on it’s way.  And while it’s been fermenting I’ve been going through 1 and 2, doing a bit of tweaking (and hopefully polishing).  All things Shed-wise seem to be falling into a nice, round place.  Which is good. I think?

Also been doing a bit of drawing – found a neat site called Etsy, and have set up shop selling my stupid pictures of cats.  The shop’s called stupidcats, and it’s also on Twitter, and has a Facebook page. Called stupidcats. For some reason, I can’t put a link in to that. Oh well. Actually, I should rephrase that first bit – I’ve set up shop hoping to sell my stupid pictures of cats.  Best get drawing… I’ve only done two so far, which is a tad feeble.

Three Twitter accounts is getting a bit confusing, even with TweetDeck…

Speaking of stupidcats, ours is.  I think it might be the onset of spring.  He’s having mad half hours, tearing round the house and attaching himself to ankles.  And doing a lot of that ‘weave-in-and-out-of-your-legs-as-your-walking’ thing.

Oooh, this volcano in Iceland’s been quite exciting, hasn’t it?  Brought back memories of watching a Hekla eruption from Heimaey back in… 2000? Was at a christening party at the time, and suddenly someone rushed in, babbled about an eruption, and we all piled into cars and drove down to the harbour to watch.  I think I was expecting to see lava shooting up into the sky (yes, I know, it was miles away, silly!) so was dissapointed for about two seconds until I realised that the clouds stretching all the way across the horizon weren’t normal clouds – they were Proper Volcano Clouds.  Had one of those lift-shaft moments, you know, where your tummy drops a bit?!  And then, to top it off, a huge streak of lightening in the middle of the darkest cloud. Wow. If you really squinted, you could just make out a teeny tiny orangey-red dot on the horizon.  That was lava that was.

Right, enough, I have an appointment with a little bottle of India ink and some crayons.


Bins, bubbles and buried alive…

2 03 2010

At last! The black bin-men have been! Missed the last one so the situation was getting rather critical (cue whinge about fortnightly bin collections…).

Had one of those ‘moments’ last night – suddenly woke up at 1am with The First Line running round and round my head… leapt out of bed and bolted downstairs to get it down before it slipped away. Very excited, as have been searching for it since… er… 1992… (now that’s a bit embarassing)… but am trying to curb the excitement as I’m supposed to be in my shed. Woke this morning and the big, fat, heavy, stifling bubble that’s been growing on top of my head over the last few days has gone – so I think the bubble was the first line gradually putting itself together.  Odd that.  Not the first time a few days of that heavy bubble feeling have suddenly culminated in the lost idea pinging into existence.  I say lost, as it’s always as if you’ve had it all along but couldn’t find it.  Or you’ve just remembered it.  Odd…

A couple of daft things…

For some reason, the following line from a pub review in a local CAMRA magazine made t’other half and I snort into our pints the other evening: “To the side of the pub is a small walled garden, where the world record for being buried alive was broken in 1998 by Geoff Smith.”  What a selling point! Actually I’ve just googled him, and it turns out it was rather controversial ( Also the bubble has been slightly deflated (not the idea bubble, a different sort of bubble) after reading that he was in a box, not underground. Humph.

Radio presenter talking to a woman on the phone about her husband:

Presenter: “Is he sporty?”

Woman: “No, he’s 38.”