I never seem to write entries on this thing on a Saturday night, which is why I’m sitting here, Sunday evening, with my headphones turned on and plugged into the ISDN so I can hear what’s going on in the LBC studios while I wait to do my slot, trying to remember what went on last night.

It was the end of a busy, very productive day, which kicked off with a mamouth post-tax-return tidy up and flowed into an even more impressive writing session. Altogether this weekend, I’ve put down 6,000 words. All of them freelance, so all of them profitable.

Of course that means I’ve added nothing to the book in the last two days, but then it’s the paid-for writing that is paying for the non-paid noveling, so it balances out.

I ate a quick dinner in front of half of Moonraker then zizzed up to the Fox and Hounds. Last time I went there was April Fools’ Day last year when it was practically deserted but for half a dozen podgy guys dancing on a smoky dance floor to So Macho.

Fortunately, this time around it was fairly crowded, and the little club out the back was comfortably packed. The music was way better, too.

Was surprised to find it had changed hands since last time I went, but there were still plenty of familiar faces - Paul A, Richard, John, the twins, and then all the ones you used to see but never talk to, and then the ones you did talk to but wish you hadn’t, and then all the ones you didn’t ever see nearly enough, and then the very unconvincing cross dressers that look like Mrs McClusky from Grange Hill.

It was a warm night - pleasant enough to sit outside in the garden beneath the urinal hanging baskets, overflowing with flowers (certainly better than what they might have overflown with in a previous life). There was a guy dressed up as a fox in a big red furry outfit, complete with head the size of a dustbin. He must have been roasted, dancing in the little club, and kept on running out to the garden to take off the head and cool down.

In all, a relaxing, fun evening, and I could happily have stayed far longer than it was open, but after the long drive down the deserted A12, through countryside lit only by the bright low moon I was home by half one and in bed by two, asleep right away.

So today I had a little lay in, then finished off the writing before heading around to mum’s. This was largely so I could network her computers, but after three hours of disassembling, reconstructing, plugging, unplugging and installing and uninstalling drivers I still couldn’t get Windows XP and ME to talk to each other without crashing the ME machine. If I can get XP and Linux, or Linux and Mac OS to talk to one another, why not two flavours of Windows? Surely they come from the same company? Surely they have been written to run together.

Grrr.

Three hours later I had put everything back the way it was (thank you, System Restore) and left the two PCs sulking in opposite corners, refusing to talk to one another. I shall try again another time.

Sometimes I really dislike computers.

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