1pm

So, I’m sitting here in Costa, tapping away on a laptop.  Something that, had I seen someone else doing it, I would have thought that they were a pratt.  I feel like a pratt though, that’s the problem.  It’s not helped by the fact that the laptop doesn’t have a bag, so instead I am lugging it round in a Next bag, praying that it doesn’t break with each step I take. I could position the laptop under my arm as I walk, but I tried that and it made me feel even more of a wally.

The laptop resolution is set to a small screen (1,400 x 1,050), which is what’s best suited to the graphics card (at least that what it tells me when I try to change it.) It’s a resolution that I can cope with, and I enjoy the fact that no-one can read over my shoulder without a struggle as its small writing.  I’m going to look stupid if anyone sees this though, and then sees me reading the Frank Skinner book, which was only available from the library in Large Print.  I’m probably squinting as I write this, yet when I get the book out, I’ll be leaning back, book held at arms length, trying to read.  Not a good look.  It does remind me of an old joke that made me laugh in a geeky kind of way.  I heard this, unsurprisingly at the start of the year.  “I’ve finally decided on my New Years Resolution.  1,400 x 1,050.”  Told you it was a bit geeky.  Which in turn reminds me of the other geeky joke: “There are 10 people in this world that understand binary: Those that do and those that don’t”

The other silly thing is that I can’t connect to a network here.  So I’m typing this in Word with the intention of uploading it to LiveJournal later.  Whether I’ll get round to doing it or not is anyone’s guess.  That’s the thing about blogging live.  When I type up an entry in LiveJournal and save it, it’s there for everyone (or no-one, depending on how personal it is) to read.  When I type something up in Word, I generally re-read it before posting it, and then try and change things so the original flow of the writing doesn’t come through, or I’ll just think “No, that was rubbish, I won’t copy and paste it to the blog as no-one will want to read it.”  Thinking over that last line again, it’s probably just as well I don’t write in Word first as nothing would get published otherwise!

This is the first moment I’ve had without the kids since Friday morning when I picked Chance up.  At the moment all the girls are at school, and I’ve not long dropped Chance to nursery.  I’m due to pick Chance up at 3pm, Brooke at 3.10pm, Aaliyah (who normally comes out at the same time as Brooke, but has after school club today) at 3.40pm, and Charisma is being taken to Brownies by Nicola, who is her best friend’s (Lauren’s) mum.

I spoke to Nicola this morning, who is good friends with Mel.

“Seeing as you’re taking Mel’s place this week Dan, when do I get to come round for coffee?  Mel always makes me coffee one morning in the week, and you have to do everything she does!” she said in jest.

“I’m doing my best Nic,” I replied with a grin, “but even I draw the line at shagging Mark!”

I like to think it was delivered with the good humour that was intended, but it flustered Nicola for a second or two before she responded with

“Ahh, but we don’t know that she is!”

I’ve no doubt it will get back to Mel, but it was meant as a cheeky comment, so hopefully she’ll take it as such.  If not… well, it’s too late now I guess.

Chance seems to be speaking more and more these days.  He turns three next Sunday, so his speech should be further along than it is, but he’s doing ok.  Whether having him for a couple of days just means that I am now getting used to what he is saying or asking  for, I don’t know, but he seems like he is talking more than he has done in the past. 

We had a quick conversation before I dropped him to nursery.  I was making him toast and asked him what he wanted as a topping.  He thought for a second as if really trying to decide what he wanted before replying confidently with just one word.  Cake.  It’s a strange combination, cake on toast, but I suppose if you don’t ask, you don’t get.  And sometimes you DO ask and STILL don’t get, as Chance found out when he was handed plain old buttered toast.

I’ve been thinking about joining Weight Watchers.  I know it’s a little clichéd, and at 31 years of age, I am probably allowed to get away with having a gut, but seeing as I have a few more weeks of sod all planned, I can try and use that time to motivate myself into losing some weight.  I’m 6’ 1” and weigh between 15st and 15.5st, and I think I’d be happier going down to about 14 st.  It’s annoying looking at charts in the doctors surgery or online that tell me that at 15 and a bit stone, for my height, I’m bordering on obese.  I don’t think I am anywhere near obese, but could definitely stand to get thinner.  Weight Watchers would help me do that, and might be the constant kick up the backside that I need.  We’ll see.  I’m very aware that it’s quite girly, and on the sexist side there’s probably not much chance of pulling a fit bird there (though the opportunity to shag a fat lass hasn’t often been wasted on me.  Rarely when sober, in my defence.)

The handy thing about typing in Word is that it shows how many words you have written.  I’m just coming up to 950 words in this entry, and it’s taken 20 minutes to write so far.  The reason I mention it is that Frank Skinner was saying that he planned to write a novel, 1,000 words per day for 100 days, taking him well past what he said he needed (60k-80k) word-wise.  1,000 words sounds like a huge amount, yet I have rattled them off in next to no time.  I guess the difference is quality.  Talking of which, I’ve received no more knock backs yet from the production companies.  Mind you, there’s only been the one response so far, which was negative, so I shan’t build my hopes up too much. 

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