Dystopian dull

The problem with the story I am trying to write is that it has turned out to be very boring.

I am shocked by my own dullness.

It amazes me that a story set in a dystopian future world wherein octopuses from outer space hijack somebody’s mind and set them to breaking into a prison camp can be boring, but so far I have managed to make it so.

I think that the workings of my mind must just be naturally tedious. I have written about three pages today, and when I read it afterwards, even I was bored.

I do not think that JK Rowling has this problem. I am going to have to do some editing and have another go tomorrow.

On the plus side I have made some cherry brandy chocolate and some fudge, so we will not starve this week, even though I have not written a best-selling novel. Mark likes the sort of chocolate with pistachio nuts best, I think but we have run out of those until I go to Kendal, which is a massive nuisance, and I do not at all want to do it.

I have never understood why shopping is considered a leisure activity. It is one of the most ghastly of chores, whether it is for soap powder or party dresses. The only shopping which is ever pleasurable is the Christmas markets, probably because of the free samples of rum and the mulled wine as you go. I think you are not supposed to drink on your way around Asda, although I have never actually tried it to see what they do about it. Probably they wouldn’t mind the drinking but not be too keen on the singing and giggling and crashing the trolley.

I have got to take Oliver back to the orthodontist in a couple of weeks, perhaps we can get the shopping over and done with at the same time. I will not get drunk first, although the idea is appealing

I have ironed all of his school things. Apart from replacement tuck, for which we will have to earn some cash, he is pretty much ready to return. Socks, underpants, shirts and ties have been neatly folded and laid in his bag, which I have now zipped up tidily before I lose anything again. Matron has not replied about the lost slipper. I do not know what has happened to that, it is hardly likely to have been stolen.

In any case, it is done, and the holidays are nowhere near over. I am relieved by such organisation, what an efficient parent I am. I do not need to worry any more, at least as long as I remember to clean his shoes and replace his shampoo, and every now and again I might have some middle-of-the-night anxious thoughts about his lost slipper.

It snowed again whilst I walked over the fells this morning. So far April is not being especially clement this year. I know about global warming and all that sort of thing, but I do wish it would start. They say that April showers bring May flowers but they are remarkably quiet on the subject of April hailstones and biting winds.

We watched a documentary on Netflix last night which was about Jimmy Savile. I have heard about him on the fringes of my awareness, and so I knew that he was once famous but became a villain, but none of the details, because of not having paid sufficient attention to current affairs. In fact I last remember him from my teenage years when he presented Top Of The Pops, and really I only recall that I liked it better when Mike Read did it.

Mark, whose house did not even have electricity when he was growing up, knew almost nothing about him at all, and so we both watched in fascinated horror. I wonder what people can do to get help if that is their problem. It is hardly something you can talk about, like in Alcoholics Anonymous groups, and stick together whilst you are putting it right.

It was all very sad, and we went to bed feeling thoughtful and downcast.

I am going to stick to films in future.