The Smell of Burning Leather
The first of September; fancy that. And the virus is still with us and making its presence felt–for example in Glasgow today. And still the travel industry is making noises, for example Willie Walsh. I understand that if your primary business model is designed for a world that no longer exists, and is unlikely to re-emerge for a couple of years, you’ll be in brown trousers territory, but I tend to think it would be better to acknowledge that than to go on a PR safari.
As for me, I got the preservative more or less finished on the decking by the shed, just a couple more square feet to do. Unfortunately they’re under a pair of planters, so I need to let what I’ve done dry before I can get at it. Bad weather is forecast for tomorrow afternoon, so it may be a couple of days. Something to look forward to, eh?
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I wrote another 1200 words today, and got myself back on track for where I thought the story was going. If that sounds confusing, by the time I get to the end and go back and work it up to full first draft, it will look as though everything is exactly as I always intended it to be.
I’ve been musing on the subject of self-publishing. In part this is just coffee-induced day dreaming, in part I am toying with the idea. We’ll see. Or not.
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Music: Jack Nitzsche’s name cropped up in a Twitter post earlier this morning and, my brain being what it is, I immediately thought of this, which he was involved with arranging. I like the Tubes for their own sake, though it has to be said I haven’t listened to them for a while. They also bridge two bands I do listen to: they were ‘discovered’ and brought to A&M records by one Rick Wakeman, who was between gigs with Yes at the time; and their keyboard player was Vince Welnick, who, later in life, was keyboard player with the Grateful Dead.
I was delighted to see that Reba McEntire recorded Don’t Touch Me There, but it turns out to be a different song entirely. Shame.
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