Barmy Blue's Bland Blog

There be trouble in them skies says I.
We’ve just had, sleet, rain and snow in the same half hour and now it’s sunny. Could this be a clear sign of global warming? Probably, though people will ignore it.
Now, imagine you’ve been bored all day and the library’s closed so you can’t even read that book you were so desperate and so thrilled to find last Thursday. You have had little inspiration and you’re bored, but you’ve been looking through some of the stuff (drawings mainly but also part of a crappy story) and you’ve come across something that you felt extremely passionate about for all of a couple of weeks. You eventually strike up a quick conversation with an associate, after he’s mentioned that it looks like rain, and you ask him what kind of joint the wrist is. The shoulders a socket, everyone knows that, and the elbow a hinge. But what is the wrist? You receive a vague answer that lets you feel that your design for a bionic wrist joint is perfectly adequate (as you’d had your doubts about it). You then concentrate on the page of rough sketches for that story and try to think about it. Part of a song keeps playing in your head but it’s got no relevance to sci-fi. You concentrate on another song you heard on “head Radio” in “Grand Theft Auto 3” and then imagine the character, that you’d previously had trouble attributing a personality to, playing it very loudly, but with minor alterations. This thought causes a spark of individual personality to give him. You quickly scribble it down and now research the name you plan on giving that song (after you’ve changed it to suit the story) but you know it’s the name of a film so you scratch the first letter of it and hope it’s good enough, besides, you can change it later. Imagine all of that any you’ll know how I feel. Rather happy and feeling rather pleased with myself for finally giving Maverick a spark of his own personality because I can now build on it and get back into the saddle of that story.
As I’m updating I’ll include the rest of the morning too.
Looking out of the kitchen I became concerned for a starling who seemed unable to stop his wings from drooping. After fretting about him and worried that Tabby had got him only to find him alive and well, I was told by mum that she was sure he was able to fly. I felt better for hearing that. If he can fly then he’s stands a good chance. We concluded he may have perhaps thorns, twigs, scratches or parasites under his wings. If we see him tomorrow we’ll see how he is.
I forgot to add a little bit about Saturday. Our neighbour, called Kim, a frail, little, old woman who has a habit of rescuing Alsatians had dropped a note through our door, asking mum to call her. As we were settling down to our fish and chips (I had chicken and a bit of mum’s cod) she knocked on the door. I followed mum just in case and sat on the stairs, picking at the chips. It seemed that Kim had dropped the note in on Friday and neither of us had noticed. She wanted mum to drive her to some shop somewhere so that she could get some things for a Jewish holiday (I didn’t know she was Jewish, but it never had any relevance to me anyway, so I didn’t care.) Basically she said she didn’t like parking because she wasn’t very good at it. I found this rather silly but said nothing. I later said to mum that if I could actually drive then I’d offer to take her, while making references to GTA 3 in order to unnerve her and make her drive herself for fear of me purposely running people over . I wouldn’t really, but she wouldn’t know that.
Oh well, that’s all for now.

Bluebiird out.