Rather than getting everything wrapped up and sorted yesterday I decided to spend an awful lot of time working on my new music project. While this isn’t the worst use of my time, and it was on the agenda for this week sending off my novel was supposed to come first because the sooner it is off, the sooner I get published,write the screenplay, retain the merchandising rights, write the soundtrack, become a millionaire. See, I’m not as all over the place as I make it seem, there is a definite goal, good intentions.
Today I am going shopping though. It’s payday, one of only twelve days a year when my account is in credit. Next week I’m off to Paris so I need to make sure I’ve got enough striped shirts and pencil thin moustaches to see me through. I’m kidding. Usually I’m one of those people who just gets by with what he’s got but holiday is something else. That’s a very British attitude isn’t it. People save all year for their holidays, and that is what this feels like, like I’ve earned it. So I’m going to get some Euros, and possibly some clothes and then take my beloved for lunch, because it’s payday, and I’m avoiding work.