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 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/229739.stm). 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.”

Beautiful!

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