Even as she stood there, staring at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn’t quite fathom out how she’d managed to get herself into this mess. She’d been secretly dreading this moment for weeks, scenarios playing themselves over and over in her head like an episode of Top Gear on Dave. What if it didn’t fit? What if she tripped over her own feet? What if she accidentally head butted a small child and ended up on the local news? What if she turned out to be a natural and they asked her to do it again… ?! It had
Been a while since I’ve written anything on here. Or, for that matter, written very much at all, which is why I recently signed up to Start Writing Fiction, a free online course provided by the Open University in conjunction with Future Learn. Behold: my first piece of proper writing in quite some time. Why ‘Never Be Lonely’? Because we were told to use the first thing that we heard on the radio as our inspiration, and Chris Evans gave me this… a tad shoe-horned to fit my ‘allocated’ theme, but I think it just about works: Almost ten past seven. That wasn’t good.
So. Context. Last Wednesday I spoke at Ignite Cardiff (video here somewhere) and, having had some of the best but also busiest weeks in recent memory, I opted, in good old Blue Peter fashion, for the ‘here’s one I did earlier’ tactic and proceeded to limerick my way through a condensed version of my A to Z Challenge efforts. Turns out, silly sci-fi translates quite well to the stage. Who knew? In unrelated news, a friend who came to watch me posted a link to this on Facebook. I’ve still not actually watched ‘Frozen’ (I do now own it – I’m getting
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but I really hate clothes shopping. Today I had to do some – two and a half hours spent dodging parents and polyester. Lovely. Plenty of time for my cotton-addled brain to come up with this… anyone unfamiliar with Wicked may wish to peruse the original that inspired it here. And then go see it sometime in all its grand, green, thrillifying glory. (Shopper) I know this feeling, this is nothing new. Forced into shopping for my clothes won’t do. People are rushing. Clothes floor to ceiling. Parents are shushing. Oh why’s this appealing? No
A short time ago in a supermarket not that far away*… I was merrily minding my own business when the ‘Friends’ theme started playing – a particularly good cover of which, I think, can be viewed here. I, being me, started singing along – nothing unusual there. What I wasn’t expecting was to find myself, whilst making my way from ‘Biscuits’ to ‘Frozen Foods’, being joined by a like-minded singing shopper. She took the Alto, I had Soprano covered, The Rembrandts did what they always do, and for a brief moment, just next to the Confectionary, life had become a musical!
Not content with yesterday’s efforts, I thought I’d ruin a carol this time… to give a couple of bits of context: 1) I was once, in the depths of my past, a historian 2) I quite enjoyed this 3) I’m not amazing at maths Hark the poor historians sing Maths is quite a complex thing! Perfect numbers, products, primes; Fractions, functions, percentiles. Never learnt to long divide, Or which shapes have seven sides. ‘Fraid my brain is fried again With old Pythag’s Theorem Hark the poor historians sing Maths is quite a complex thing! I’d stand more chance of being
Because nothing says Christmas quite like taking a well known, much loved piece of festive prose and butchering it in the name of parody… Merry Christmas T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the house, Not a hard disk was whirring, no click of a mouse. Emails to Santa had been written with care, In the hope that new Playstations soon would be there. The children were finally slumped in their beds, While visions of Candy Crush danced in their heads. And Mum with her Baileys and me on Taboo Had just settled down with some old Doctor Who.
Every now and again, my brain decides it really wants to do something, gets a bit carried away and won’t let me concentrate on anything else until I’ve let it run around for a bit to wear itself out. A bit like having a puppy but with less fur, slobber and walkies. Until a couple of hours ago, ‘P’ was going to be for ‘Promoted’ with a link to Cardiff City and something sentimental about how happy my father-in-law is that they’ve finally gone up to the Premier League. Then I started chatting about Once More, With Feeling with some friends on Twitter, my
Was discussing my appalling eyesight with some friends at work the other day when one of them said I reminded her of a song lyric – my brain immediately went into parody mode and this is the result (with apologies and due credit to Jimmy Nash who, according to Wikipedia, wrote the original lyrics it’s based on): I can see clearly now my specs are on I can see clearly now my specs are on, I can see all obstacles in my way Gone is the blurriness of being blind It’s gonna be alright (right), alright (right) – I see
Last year I submitted this to the 2011 Wergle Flomp poetry contest… as predicted, it didn’t so much fly as plummet as far as making it into the top entries goes, although I like to think it raised at least a smile or an eyebrow at some point on its way to obscurity. This year, I thought I’d enter this to see if it fared any better…. it beat a field of roughly a dozen entries in a competition held where I work after all; why not an American, internationally acclaimed contest for people who do this sort of thing