So the wheels have started turning again. I feel the itch to connect with my fictional chums who sit waiting like old toys in boxes for me to re-discover my inner chiddler. I put part of the blame down to Martin O’Brien and his Jacquot novels, plus An Interpretation of Murder, by Jed Rubenfeld. And part down to stuff going on at work that I really don’t want to blog about.
I’ve been having really strange dreams. I’m used to having ultra-realistic dreams, whereas recently I’ve been having ‘odd’ dreams that are directly related to day to day stuff going on. A new member of staff, naked except for tiger tattoos; exploring a new house – discovering water damage everywhere a la Dark Water, mitigated by discovering a cinema screen and horror pinball arcade; dreams in cartoon, a la Family Guy; escaping the Nazis; the list goes on. Thinking about it, I frequently dream of my youngest brother when exploring new houses. Although the reference point is a building site, and gorillas. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.
It is just beginning to feel like the time. You know. After all, Jonathan Ross won’t be around to interview me forever. One has to update the Commitments every now and again.