'If you want something done, ask someone busy.'

Been a busy couple of weeks, despite being in virtual interwebnet exile.  Just changed broadband provider, the new company letting me sign an eighteen month contract whilst neglecting to inform me that there was a fault in my box that would not be fixed until August (not a typo).  I'll give them a fault in the box.

Anyways, back to the good stuff.

Psychologies magazine writer's workshop.
Firstly, a tip.  If attending such events, spurred on by wife, hosted by a woman's magazine, don't be surprised if you find that you are one of two men in a room full of women, wondering if you have intruded, and looking for an excuse to leave.  Thankfully, the other fella latched on and anchored me in the room because I found the all too brief evening very encouraging.
The first exercise was a bout of random speed writing / stream of consciousness-stuff, which I have not had the confidence to do in a long time, and which may have actually given me a draft of the opening of my next drawer-sitter.
Surprisingly, I really enjoyed the evening, my first foray into the literary world, 'outing' myself as a writer in a room full of strange women.  I'd recommend it.
Was actually congratulated on the way out for 'having the courage to attend' and that 'it was great to see some blokes, for a change.'  Was not sure if that made me feel better or worse.  Decided that the lady in question was obviously just hitting on me.  Manliness restored.

Weekend in Ireland.
Immediately after workshop, I had a glorious weekend in Ireland, the first dry weekend they have seen in six months according to my sage-like uncles.  It was great to get out into the middle of the country and be truly alone for a few hours atop a hill that was bathed in warm spring sunlight, with a view that was restricted only by the stretch of my eyesight.
Sound like bliss?  It was.  Did I do any writing?  Not one word.

Manet.
Went to see the 'Manet' exhibition at the Royal Academy.  Despite the hype, or maybe because of, I must say I was disappointed.  The various portraits said little to me, leaving me feeling a little lost amidst a room full of disinterested strangers.
It was great, however, to swan past the queues with a flash of my 'Friends' card.  Best £100 you can spend, if you ask me, and worth it just for the Hockney exhibition last year.
(No one hit on me, peculiar arty types...)

You know, this blog is a lot easier to write if I go out and give myself something to write about rather than sit and home and wonder what I am going to write about.........

So, here's to keeping busy.

And happy St, Patrick's day......

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