It’s not seamless, but. I found myself hanging on a wall today. Still, isn’t my rabbit pretty?

He knows he’s a looker.

I want to start thinking about the cover for Doors. I need to sit down with some paper, a marker pen and some bad ideas and a can of kerosene, to try to work something out. Something simple? Nothing busy. I’ll think of something. Alex, who is kindly proofreading that most sorriest of affairs, has a new book review blog, so do check it out. As for me, it’s back to the drawing board. And by drawing board I mean sofa.

I hope Rafa’s not emotionally bereft after losing the Australian Open final yesterday (I sure am). What a Herculean contest! He’ll bounce back…hopefully with both knees intact

I’m tired this week. Dutch-tired, as in close to how I felt after cycling around a campsite all day, digging trenches late into the night. Fuckin’ knackered would be another way of putting it. It’s all these late nights followed by early rises to kill myself at the gym, then kill myself further reading French grammar. De des eaux cette pourraient voyons jerais celui-la ces WHAT NOW? WHAT? NO REALLY, QU’EST-CE QUE C’EST? Oh, go bougre yourself! And remember: c’est la guerre.

Last night I went to Molineux to watch the FA Cup second leg tie between Wolves and Birmingham City. Our seats were directly above the mildly abusive Blues supporters, so it was noisy, but I enjoyed the atmosphere. I hadn’t been to a football match in so long; you forget how different it is to watching it at home. No covenient replays, no commentary, no worryingly orange Gary Lineker, no close-ups of the melodramatic pansies as they wilt under flimsy tackles, falling to the ground and flailing around like jilted schoolgirls…we ate at City Bar beforehand because they have an excellent vegetarian and vegan menu, as well as things stuffed with meat for everybody else.

The ground wasn’t even half full. Can’t say I blame people for not going, though. Not only were Wolves tepid and uninspired (they lost 0-1 so NO WEMBLEY FOR YOU), but it was also bloody freezing. I believe I left a few toes behind in the Steve Bull stand.

I’m really excited about a lecture being held at the local university on 2nd February. Sebastian Peake, son of Mervyn Peake, who wrote the incomparably beautiful Gormenghast books, is lecturing on his father’s work and career in the Millennium building. It’s in the evening, so if I have to work that day, I hope I’ll be able to get back in time. I cannot think of a subject I’d enjoy more over a two-hour lecture, except maybe The Most Rewarding Aspects of Stalking Spanish Tennis Players, Discussed Over Tea And Biscuits. And even then, I’d be giving the lecture.

There is more good university-related news…I have an interview next month for a librarian position in the learning centre. I need to do my homework for this one. It’s a part-time position, and I’d love to give it a try. I have retail and customer experience; I’d be up for trying something different that still allows me to obsessively re-order shelves of books. It’s a while away yet, but I’m going to work hard for this interview. I opened the letter yesterday and couldn’t quite believe they’d picked me, but there you have it. Proof that you never know what’s happening next.

Well, time for me to expire. No actual death involved, you understand, just an expiration of sorts involving sofas and duvets and television and little else. I’m at the bookshop more next week, and on the days between I want to start work on a competition poem and tackle that imposing block of tofu in my cupboard. White, rubbery, unappetising brick, you will be scrambled in paprika and cumin! I did herb-roasted potatoes the other day, which was a success. And surprise cupcakes. Just call me Delia and get outta here, yeah?

Nothing outrageous, but it’s a start. I’ve got some tofu in the cupboard which I haven’t worked up the courage to open, yet; one of my cookbooks has an interesting scrambled tofu recipe, but I’m intimidated. Hopefully I’ll feel up to it later this week. Sadly, girl cannot live on cake alone, though there will still be cake. And biscuits. Probably a fair amount of crumble, too. Chuck in some custard whilst you’re at it?

I’m pleased to report that Monsieur Frite survived his recent skirmishes with the veterinarian surgeon, and whilst his stomach gurglings are still under par, he’s doing better every day. Eat that gourmet hay that costs a fiver a bag, young sir, or I will eat it for you. You heard me. That’s if Jaster “hollow legs, empty head, healthy appetite” Rogue doesn’t beat me to it.

It’s almost that time of year again. I can feel it in the air: an anticipation, yearning. Building in me. Buzz buzz buzzing in my head like a fever. It’s…almost…the start…of the first slam of the year…must…sound…the…trumpets…of war… ……… …. V.. V-V-VVV….

VA

AMMO

SSSS

……….

VAMOS RAFAAAAAAAaaaAaAAAaaAAAAAaa@aaaa…!!!!!!

*ahem*

Sorry about that. Just had to get it out.

The Australian Open is about to begin. Who will win? Will Rafael Nadal shrug off 2011′s year-long slump (apart from that glorious Roland Garros win, icu bein King of Clay) and recapture his #1 ranking? Will Novak “Absolute Headcase” Djokovic destroy every living creature unlucky enough to grace the other side of the net? Will that rarely seen mythological creature, Juan Martin del Potro, make a token appearance at a tournament before limping off injured for the rest of the season? Will Andy “No Slams” Murray continue his blistering form and fail to win anything of note the whole year through, sack his coach, and blame it all on his mum? Will Federer wear cardigans emblazoned with his own initials and make his own parents wear baseball caps bearing his sigil? Will Greg “I LOVE TENNIS” Rusedski say something ridiculous during commentary, forcing me to bang my head off the wall in despair? You bet your ass he will. Hot damn. Greg sure knows his stuff.

Tennis. It’s fucking awesome serious business, yo.

It might be cold and wintery outside, but I still feel all warm and fuzzy when I get to read stories like this about everybody’s favourite Spaniard. I’m glad he’s ending the year on such a positive note; 2011 has had its ups and downs for Spanish tennis. Here’s to next year seeing Rafa back where he belongs! See yaaaaaa Novak…

*swoon*

Birmingham’s annual Frankfurt Christmas market is doing a roaring trade, blocking the door to the bookshop on most days, and ensuring it’s a daily battle to get in and out of work. Oh well. At least it’s pretty, right? I went for a walk with Lisa this week to browse the stalls – I can’t buy anything until I get paid, so I’ll have to go around it all again, but it was still a nice way to pass a cold evening. The stalls are the same ones you see every year, and the prices seem to have gone up, but it still retains its novelty value. Not a German in sight, naturally.

Last night was the work Christmas meal. We went to Ming Moon, which was what you expect from a Chinese buffet restaurant. The food was decent and there were a few good laughs to be had, too. I was glad to get back to Naomi’s where we got into our PJ’s and drank tea. Party animals, for sure. This morning we got up early to watch videos online and make multiple cakes.

First came thick, chewy oat flapjacks:

The shortbread failed because we had to make do with cornflour instead of rice flour, but the banana loaf came out lookin’ sublime:

After a twenty-five minute wait in the rain, an hour-long bus journey and a traipse across Wolves in the wet, I made it home, where I lit a few candles, downed a cup of tea, before setting out for my mum’s house, which is where I now sit. I’m enjoying the company of my mad rabbits. The little dears have an advent calendar, how unnecessary is that?

Marley’s worked hard on a new look for the Naplew Productions website. Isn’t it beautiful? You can find the above page there, which gives details about the upcoming production Undulations in March, as well as a fancy author bio for yours truly…complete with obligatory moody author photo. Be sure to visit and appreciate how pretty it all is.

Right. Time for pudding, more tea, and a much needed night of uninterrupted sleep…I’m going to call for a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I don’t think there’s much to be done about the noise in my head, but I’ll ask anyway. I feel like I should grace them with my presence before Christmas takes over completely.

Today Rafael Nadal won his seventh consecutive Monte-Carlo Master’s title, defeating the lovely David Ferrer 6-4 7-5. He didn’t play anywhere near his best, but that’s okay – it’s the first claycourt event of the year and he’s got time to warm up properly before Roland Garros rolls around. The best part about being a Nadal fan (so many long amazing years of slaying your fave, bb) is knowing he’s still only 24. Many records still to be made and broken before he’s done.

I love tennis. I also love watching Arsene Wenger’s face collapse in on itself when Liverpool are given a penalty in the 100th minute which is subsequently scored. Classic.

This weekend I’ve been enjoying a mixture of recreation and work. I went to see Norwegian Wood with Nat which I was excited about, but it turned out to be a bit of a snooze. It was beautifully shot and the acting wasn’t bad, but maaaannnnn was it bleak. As a result it felt torturously long. We’re talking Return-of-the-King-get-up-out-of-your-seat-and-get-the-blood-pumping-again long, even though in reality it just scratched the 2hr mark. What’s that all about?

Anyway…as well as the ongoing typing up of various things, I’ve also been pulling together some semblance a plan for publishing Revolve and the necessary little bits of promotion. I’ve also decided to expand online in general so that Fight the Sky and any future publications don’t go forgotten. I signed up for an author’s account on GoodReads (which is fast becoming a favourite website of mine – check the new widget I’ve got in the right-hand sidebar!) and have been busy building a profile on there:

I’ve signed up to a couple of other websites as well, but haven’t got around to sorting them out yet. I’ve also made a few adjustments and additions to Fight the Sky’s promotional webpage – you’ll notice the Paypal button in case you want to buy the book direct from yours truly, and a link to a new eBook version available via GoodReads. I haven’t finished Revolve’s page just yet (although you wouldn’t have to be a genius to track it down). I’ll get it linked up when the book is released.

Tomorrow I’m going to work on the Kindle edition of Revolve; the plan is to publish all versions simultaneously, save me worrying about it at a later date. Afterwards I’m going to stuff my face at Chiquito and die a happy lady. If I can squeeze in one of these as well then even better…

Just so I get it out of my system: Gaga’s new album cover is a travesty/lesson in why one should never abuse the lens flare function. I honestly thought she was trolling her own fans when she posted the picture on Facebook. Is it supposed to be ironic? I don’t get it. It looks shite. The only good to come of it is the influx of amazing internet macros (here’s another. And another. Whoever made these is my hero, I swear the internet is man’s crowning achievement). Her song Judas is also a flaming pile of wank. Why isn’t she fun anymore? Why all the pretentious lyrics about religion? Why can’t she just get drunk and have fun partying like she did in 2008? I understand artists wanting to progress but there comes a point when you just end up boring the fuck out of everybody. Classic example of fame going straight to somebody’s head. I miss Fame!Gaga. At least Britney’s still fun even when she’s dead inside.

…guess who’s running on 2.5 hours sleep and has thus far managed to avoid an epic re-enactment of HEAD MEET DESK?

…who else was it gonna be, really? ANYWAY, we are in our supremely sexy zombiefied state to celebrate the victorious Career Grand Slam that has just come the way of our dearly beloved Spaniard:

Rafael “Living Legend (Could Work On His English Though)” Nadal

defeats

Novak “NoDjo” Djokovic

6-4 5-7 6-4 6-2

…I think nine Grand Slam titles (three of which have come in 2010), a Career Grand Slam, a record number of Master’s titles and 42 singles titles in total says it all, really. And to use a much-overused phrase: he’s only 24-years-old! I firmly believe that the sky isn’t the limit, it’s just the first stop of many, so get out there and aim even higher than they told you to school.

Djokovic played the best match I’ve ever seen him play – his semi-final against Federer was out of this world, and I thought he was exceptional against Nadal, too. I like Novak because he’s an absolute headcase and I feel he brings a lot of personality to the tour…and sometimes he lights up the court with his brilliance as a tennis player, too. Hopefully he can carry this kind of game over into 2011 and win his second Slam. The final was actually one of the best tennis matches I’ve watched in recent years…right up there with the Aussie Open 2009 semis & final. Super tense and enjoyable – a five-set score might have done Novak more justice, but my nerves were shredded by the end of it, haha, so I’m glad it didn’t go that far.

Unfortunately the end of this wonderful tournament means the best part of the tennis year is done. There are a few odd titles left to contend, and of course there are the end of year World Tour Finals as well, but with the Slams over and done with it’s mostly just a case of the tide going out, now. Nadal’s had a cracking year – 75% success rate in Slam titles, can’t complain. Even if he’d had a shit year (and at times in 2009 it didn’t feel like it could get much worse for the poor mite!) I’d still be raving about him…oh the joy of biased reporting. Well, you should know what you’re gonna get by now from this website. And there’s nothing else I can say.~

I know I talk about them a lot, but I may not have mentioned that they have never got on. Not one little bit. Chip’s always been very timid and anti-social, and I think he found Jaster’s incessant need for attenion and overriding friendliness a bit irritating. They would scrap sometimes and we kept them separated for months…then, bit by bit, we’ve been re-introducing them, showing them there’s nothing to be jealous of or worried about. And now…Chip cleans up Jaster’s general scruffiness and Jaster chases him around the living room, in a vague attempt at getting him to play. <3 So cute.

The marvellous Marley sent me a message this week, explaining where we’re at in terms of Fight the Sky promotion. The BBC want to “edit” (read: censor) the promo video before it’s shown on their Big Screens, but there are still a couple of other features on the card, including one with Creative Boom and Five Lamps Films. I’ll keep you posted so far as that all goes…and I just want to say thank you to Marley again, for being so supportive. I know how ultra-busy he keeps himself, so I appreciate everything he’s doing. Also thank you to the five lovely people who bought Fight the Sky this week – enjoy it, hate it, fling abuse. I also posted one off to California – that’s the furthest one of my books has travelled so far! Wahey!

What else is happening? I had a good day in town with Lisa and Nat on Friday. I’m meeting up with Lisa for a couple of hours tomorrow as well, so that will be nice. I’m also going to get up obscenely early and go to the gym…so it is written, so it shall be done.

I haven’t quite gotten over the photographs of Ian Watkins in precarious positions with various naked men and women. I mean, he’s always been vague and potentially scandalous, but it still took me by surprise. I want a song about this on the next album and possibly video footage, too.

ONE LAST THING BEFORE I GO…IT’S U.S. OPEN TIME!

Okay, so we’re already halfway through the tournament, but OH WELL! I’m still excited because Rafa is not wearing pink! Hallelujah! He always seems to lose in pink…anyway, the tournament’s going alright so far, quite enjoyable – Andy “No Slams” Murray is out already, surprise surprise – and I reckon it’s shaping up for an interesting QF lineup. The fourth round is quite sweet, really… Nadal vs his BFF#1 Lopez, then BFF#2 Ferrer against BFF#3 Verdasco. Spaniards are just too good looking at tennis, I guess? It’s hard to choose but I want Rafa and Nando in the Quarter-Finals, please! TA VERY MUCH.

More inane babble coming soon, just not right now.

In the words of Victor Meldrew, I can’t believe it! Rafa, I doubted from the beginning. Why on earth did I do that? Never again will I fail to believe. He always pulls it out the bag, doesn’t he? It was by no means a great final, neither man playing their best, but my argument is that Nadal never needed to – Berdych didn’t take his game to the levels he used to dispatch Federer, and various other opponents. Still, I’m happy for Tomas – his first slam final! And who would’ve picked him from that side of the draw, this time two weeks ago?! I certainly didn’t. He’s got a killer smile and a great game. I’m sure he’ll get a slam before long.

This, by the way, is Nadal’s second slam of the year (the second time he’s done the back-to-back French Open/Wimbledon wins) and his eighth of his career. He now joins the elites of the game, and he’s only 24. AMAZING.

In other news, life is extremely busy. The days are still blending. I’m finding driving very difficult, and if it weren’t for the fact that I’m insufferably stubborn, I would have given it up by now. The pay off doesn’t seem worth the stress. I don’t particularly want a car, and I wouldn’t have anywhere to drive it to, anyway. I just want to be able to say I can. I don’t enjoy being crap at things; so, no matter how much money I have to fork out for lessons, I will be able to drive one day.

I’ve got a great idea for a story, but the problem is finding the time to work on it…I’ve requested a typewriter for my birthday, so hopefully that will spur me on. I literally have no excuse then (right now I’m blaming it on the fact that I’m using the computer once or twice a week at the most, so I’m never able to write). I’m going to take my notebook on the train with me tomorrow, and instead of reading a couple of chapters of whichever book throughout the day, I’ll try to write a few paragraphs. Sounds fair.

I’m also considering signing up to the local gym. I find the thought of it terrifying, but I’m absolutely sick of myself and my negative self-attitude, so I might as well do something about it. The way I see it now, I’m well out of my teens and heading into the abyss that is the Real World – I’ve got to get over whatever is holding me back from being who I want to be. So, I can’t find the perfect job? I can’t afford a place of my own? I’m going to be rejected by Warwick? I can’t move to France which is what I so desperately, desperately want? I can’t write all day? Oh boo-fucking-hoo, Sinéad. Tell you what you can do, dearest. You can get off your arse and do some bleeding exercise, instead of moping around hating on yourself.

…the Sports Direct website is entirely unreasonable. I’ll have to look around Birmingham for gym clothes, tomorrow. Oh good.

Time for a shower, a cup of tea, a vague attempt at telling myself I haven’t frittered the day away as usual. I’ve actually achieved enough. I went to town and got bleach for my roots, had a coffee and doughnut for breakfast (WHOLE-HEARTEDLY RECOMMENDED), came home to find Sue had sold a copy of Fight the Sky on my behalf, fretted and then rejoiced over Wimbledon, got the community I moderate sorted, deleted WRAW and Overkill Hair, googled “how to survive the gym” and finally got around to writing in this little white box of mine. It doesn’t sound like a thrilling day, but it was worth it, right?

Oh, who am I kidding. I’m tired. Congratulations Rafa. The bed calls to me. Five-thirty tomorrow morning calls to me. Eat, sleep, wither, repeat – see you next week for more of the same.

JOHN TERRY’S AMAZING TORPEDO DEFENSIVE DIVE

…I could go on. Seriously, I cried with laughter. I’m cutting out a picture of the original shot from the newspaper and sticking it on the wall – seeing how England’s campaign came to a miserable end, it’ll cheer me up somewhat! Now I can fully commit to Uruguay…DIEGO! DIEEE-EeeeEeEeEe-GOOO!

Rafa’s having a pretty slow Wimbledon so far, as well. I’m sure he’d rather be winning badly than losing in style. He got angrier than I’ve ever seen him in the last match, though, when the umpire started banging on about coaching. If Rafa was going to start doing that, why would he pick that moment? Sure, he was in a fifth set, but he wasn’t overwhelmed by the opponent. I didn’t at any point get worried that he wasn’t going to win, I thought that was obvious from the beginning. It just took him a while to get there.

Still, Wimbledon’s proving pretty epic this year. Isner vs. Mahut was mindnumbingly dull towards the end, but the score and sheer length of the match was awesome. Also, the doubles #1s are out! So perhaps a few new stars are on the rise…

I’m going to spend my evening reading The Passage, which has thus far been a very enjoyable distraction. I’m also going to write a few emails, catch up on things concerning the book, etc…and I’m going to stop expecting favours from people, because I clearly ain’t going to get any. Only one thing for it: stop dishing them out.

RAFAEL “NICE ASS-ETS” NADAL defeats ROGER “THE GOAT” FEDERER

6-4 7-6(5)

to win the Madrid Master’s 1000 2010

So, Rafael, what have you achieved today?

• First player in history to win all three claycourt Master’s titles in the same season.
• Surpasses André Agassi as the player to win the most Master’s titles in their career – Nadal now has 18 of the blessed things, and he’s only 23-years-old.
• In their 21st meeting, Nadal beats Federer for the 14th time.
• He has now won 168 of 174 matches played on clay since 2005.

Living legend, you can look but don’t touch.

Oh, and Federer played well and was very gracious in defeat (although Nadal apologised again – the Swiss maestro must get sick of hearing “Roger I sorry”, no?). Still, I hope someone makes a .gif of that final point and writes ‘FAIL’ across the middle of it.