The sun is out and the frost has gone. Within a couple of days, everyone in Britain will stop complaining that it’s cold all the time and will start complaining that it’s warm all the time. Lockdown does at least spare us the sight of men deciding that it’s now time to wander around the high street wearing nothing but trainers and the shorts that fit them perfectly when they were 14 years old.
This story document is giving me hell. It just doesn’t want to go. It stutters and stops. So today I need to take it from the top and see if it flows. If it doesn’t, then the story idea is broken and I need to start from scratch. It happens.
Inbox 15, marking up the boards and pulling down CDs from the shelves for today’s soundtrack. Good morning.