Auf wiedersehen once again. it’s nice to have you back for round two.
When you left me I had been mulling (and mulled) over some original story ideas that I am now even more desperate to come up with. I’ve told you all about the proposed hero of my first debut novel, Pseudomodo and how my ideas for his mis-adventures hadn’t been terribly well received. Well, I’ve been thinking quite a lot for the last forty minutes or so and now I’m on a well earned brandy break (Hennessy Paradis Impérial brandy,€1,199).
Man, this Pseudomodo thing is annoying me no end. My friends, maid and taxi driver chauffeur loved it: “could easily be as good as the Hobbit movies.” So what’s the goddamn problem?
Anyway, so far tonight I’ve done much Googling and pencil chewing. Now, after the top half of the first page of Google has proved fruitless, I now …want to have another quick drink of Hennessy Paradis Impérial brandy. My next port of call will be to my lovely bookshelf (the Billy) and specifically, to my very grandest reference book, ‘The Encyclopedia Limeyland.’
I’ll tell you all about that fabulous book later, but for now, at the end of my exhausting research I am glad to say that I have a number of creative possibilities. Here are a few ideas. I might put it to a reader vote as to which one I pursue.
- First up is a cookbook, and not just any ol’ cookbook – but a fish cookbook. A fish cookbook that I’ll co-write with the local monks. I’ll call it: Have Mercy on my Sole.
On reflection, this might actually be the worst idea I have ever had, I hate cooking (I eat out fourteen times a week) but I do a beans on toast worthy of Gordon Ramsay.
- Next up is a medical romance, what with the popularity of Grey’s Anatomy and
crapthings like that. The downside is that I’ll probably have to do a little research. I can see myself spending long hours indoors poring over the Red Cross first aid manual that I put in the attic (or the fire?). I see long nights on the couch, binge watching the excellent Nip/Tuck and certainly my Doogie Howser, M.D. box set. All done with a glass of fine brandy in front of me of course – speaking of which…..
What’ll it be about? Get a load of this – it will be the story of a newly qualified nurse who moves from her home in rural Galway to faraway Dublin in order to take up her first job at an emergency department.To add to the drama, the emergency department is forever under threat of closure because the government (notice the lowercase ‘g’) spent the budget on things like informing us of the importance of cooking our turkey all the way through at Christmas, and delivering half a megabyte of broadband to the sticks.
Sorry, I digress.
Our heroine has hardly found out where the liquor is sold when she finds herself caught up in a love triangle with work colleagues; both of whom happen to be proctologists. I’m thinking of calling it Between Two Stools.
Now, before you get too attached to that fantastic idea I feel it only fair to tell you that I am also mulling over turning it into a humorous novel which I might call Tongue in Cheek. Booker f***ing Prize here I come.
Strange you think that I would consider writing romantic fiction. Not so, I may be perennially single but I feel like a real romantic at heart. I believe that I’m as qualified as anyone to write romantic fiction. Look at a lifetime of evidence. I’m thinking of all the chatting up I’ve done and all the bars and clubs and gin joints I’ve been to. I think of all the slow sets I’ve danced, all the snogging I’ve done, all the Mr Mister and Renée and Renato I’ve listened to. I think of all the one-night stands I’ve had in cars and lanes and on very rare occasions, bedrooms. For God’s sakes I convinced a woman to marry me once (ceremony in vegas – never saw her again, think she was a brunette).
I go to romantic cities all the time, Amsterdam for a weekend at least once a year. I’ve driven through Kilkenny on occasion and I’ve been to Paris a few times too. Those places are full of poets and storytellers and the like. Convinced? You bloody well should be.
I’m on a roll now. Hang on, I need a dram of Hennessy. I’m drinking of course from a Toyo-Sasaki soda-lime and crystal glass from Japan. Only the best.
It’s getting late I’m afraid and I’m feeling a little on the tired side. Maybe I should call it a night. I can get a few hours kip and have at it again early, about noon should do it. And by God the ol’ bladder is fit to burst. Sorry to be so crude. I consider myself a gent. I was educated at the finest RTC in Ireland and I am now accustomed to the best in life. So I’m going to skull this fine brandy and pop across to my little porcelain privy where I’ll….actually the bottom of the garden is looking pretty good right now. Then I’m off to BOD – I mean bed (Freudian slip, sorry).
I don’t need to tell you that the thread count in my sheets runs to four digits. The sheets are a smooth Percale weave, very nice. It’s only a coincidence of course that this weave also happens to be popular among other tasteful celebrities (Princess Stephanie of Monaco, Honey Boo Boo and a few X-Factor rejects). It simply has to be Percale because for some reason, other fine weaves, like a flannel weave, but particularly the sateen weave (popular with Royalty don’t you know) makes my arse itch something fierce.
PS, I had the loveliest dream last night, I can only hope tonight is half as good. I’ll tell you all about it later.
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