Friday, June 10, 2005
My drugs hell.
Last week out neighbours handed us a big bunch of poppies (possibly you can see where this is going), as their garden is very lovely, and the loveliness of the poppies therein has oft been commented upon by m'good self. Anyway, the poppies blossomed forth very prettily, and then all the petals fell off, and I kept meaning to take them out to the compost bin.
Only I've just realised that the grey stuff on the creme freche was in fact poppy dust.
So what I basically just had was opium fajihas.
It might be best if I don't make any calls today.
Yesterday however, I went for a walk around Redruth, where there are lots of old mine workings that have become pleasingly overgrown, in a John Wyndhamesque sort of way, with jackdaws nesting on ledges and foxgloves growing everywhere. And I can be fairly confident I was there, as I took some photos, unless I hallucinated them too.
Anyway, my hope is that JATBC will soon become the first port of call for people wanting to look up photos of abandoned cornish mining buildings. Although as I left, four carloads of people with large 'proper' cameras (with tripods and lightmeters and everything) got out and headed in the direction I had just left. So that probably won't happen either.
I've finally worked out which of the scripty things I'm currently doing is paying me, and which isn't, and of course the one I'm spending lots of time rewriting is the one that isn't. Dammit. They were very keen on Romey loves Jools though, so they like my stuff. Just not the stuff I'm doing for them now. It's difficult doing sample scenes for a series when all you have to go on is the scripts, as things change so much between page and screen - some actors can really bring a character to life, when there wasn't that much to them on the page. Anyway, I'm having one final shot at it, and if the poppy dust doesn't help, I don't know what will.
Of course if they like the stuff I wrote under the influence, I'm going to have to head out to Limehouse soon and find one of these oriental opium dens I keep reading about in the penny dreadfuls. I bet this is just how Sherlock Holmes* got started.
*Oops, no it wasn't - Sherlock Holmes was into cocaine, not opium. Textbook error.