Holidays and publishing news

Italy was kind of fun, I must say - the best thing was just getting away and not having to think about all the other stuff, to be honest. Such a treat. I wouldn't say it was our favourite ever holiday, probably not by a long chalk, but there were some great (and some not so great ...) highlights, including:

1. Assisi. It's fabulous - I really loved it, far more than I thought I would. I'd go back tomorrow if asked.
2. Spotting a Common Redstart - a lifetime first, hurrah!
3. Spotting hosts of glorious Swallowtail butterflies on a walk through an olive tree grove, double hurrah.
4. My digital camera refusing to function, so I had to borrow Lord H's if I saw something I liked.
5. And guess what? Yes, you're right, my replacement CoolReader broke on the 2nd day, in the same way as it did before. No, I won't be getting another. I'll replace it myself with a Sony Reader (of which more later). I do feel we should have at least some of Lord H's CoolReader money back though, but I suspect the company aren't going to make it easy for us, deep deep sigh ... Either way, the CoolReader has not in any way covered itself with glory.

Meanwhile at home, the following has occurred, some good and some bad:

1. Meditation Poem 13 is now published here.
2. Toes do furnish a man (another poem) is also published here.
3. My short story, Two Christmases, has been accepted for Dreamspinner Press's upcoming anthology, Mistletoe Madness.
4. Despite sending the final version of Hallsfoot's Battle to the agent before I went on holiday, there's been no acknowledgement. Of any sort. Is he dead or terribly terribly sick, we ask??...
5. The Gifting has now been rejected by every single publisher, both large and small, in the known universe and possibly some in the Delta Quadrant also (but I haven't had their emails yet). So I am planning to self-publish it either later this year or early 2010. Sod the lot of the ruddy publishing world, I say. I am really seriously fed up with them - except of course those lovely small publishers who have seen some kind of merit in what I have previously written, Gawd bless 'em.
6. I have therefore asked my agent to bring our business relationship to an end, as there's no point having a fantasy novel agent if I'm going to self-publish the whole trilogy on my own without bothering the crumbling ivory towers of the so-called mainstream (and not so mainstream) fantasy press - I don't want them to get their hands dirty with good literature, eh, do I, ho ho. As I've had no response to that message from the agent either, I've gone ahead and started the process of getting an independent editor/proofreader for The Gifting anyway. After all, what's the point of waiting for answers that never appear? Plus I've made initial enquiries with a suitable self-publishing company. So, watch this space for a rollicking good adventure read to come ...
7. Lord H has bought me a Sony Reader - which I hope will last longer than the rather more than feeble Coolreader - and I am busy charging it up right now. Again, watch this space.
8. We've spent a very pleasant day at Pulborough Brooks and spotted a wood sandpiper (another lifetime first!), two buzzards, a kestrel and a chiff-chaff, amongst the usual suspects. It's been a relief to get away from the pains of my stumbling literary career (ho ho).
9. I have thoroughly depressed myself by looking at my work emails, of which there are many, most of which are urgent and I will have to do the moment I return to work on Monday. Honestly, I swear that one of the main reasons for me trying to become a successful (pause for rampant laughter) novelist was the stalking fear of being swallowed up whole by meaningless administration, but I see it is likely to happen anyway. Really, work is sometimes so overwhelmingly depressing, and the business of writing is sometimes so shot through with inevitable failure that I just feel like bursting into tears and running away onto a desert island as far away as possible from both of them. With Lord H of course (well, he doesn't like work either). If only one were allowed to be successful in the career one actually wants to have, then life would be so much less dark, I feel. As it is, I am only relatively successful in a field that means almost nothing to me, so it's all something of a bugger really. Ah well. Only another ten years to go and I might be allowed to think about retirement, eh.
10. Sorry about the moaning, but going on holiday only makes things a thousand times worse when you come back. I think that, as I get older, it also gets harder to settle down into the daily round again. I'm dreading Monday already, double sigh.

Anne Brooke - she tried to be a novelist once, you know ...
The Gifting - the novel nobody wants: coming soon to an online provider near you (but don't wait up)

Brokeback article and editing notes

Here's today's meditation for you - and I'm now onto the story about Lazarus, as you can probably tell:

Meditation 163

The slow disappearing
into the dark cave,

solidity weighting the skin,
impression of night

velvet-rich on the tongue.
It is hard

when the eyes
no longer open:

when will he come
when will he come

when will he
come.


How very jolly I am, eh. Anyway I've had a fun time this morning typing up my article about Brokeback Mountain for Vulpes Libris - goodness me, what a lot I had to say indeed. It feels great now I've got it all onto the page. Or rather screen. Adaptation Week will be the week of 20 July and will include lots of hugely exciting pieces too, so don't forget to look out for that.

I've popped into Godalming to get my essential weekly fix of the local news, and I'm also thrilled to see that a short article about my books is included in this month's Writers' News magazine. Well, gosh. On the other hand, I am hugely annoyed by some ridiculous article in the accompanying Writing Magazine about how self-publishing isn't "real" publishing and we shouldn't do it. Ye gods, how old fashioned can you get?? Really, authors who've been lucky enough to land deals every time they so much as venture into the outside world or who simply don't know the first thing about how the real writing world is should learn to keep their mouths firmly closed and give the rest of us a chance to do whatever we damn well wish to. It's very condescending to think that self-publishing is a lesser relative in the publishing world - these days, sensible writers (such as myself - ho ho) take advantage of it whenever we need to. Harrumph, I say. Speech over.

This afternoon I've finished taking notes about The Gifting and now all I have to do is type them up. Hey ho. That's just over 20 sides of scrawl so it could take some time. Only after that can I really get onto the actual editing of Hallsfoot's Battle. I hope Annyeke and the gang aren't fretting too much at my curious absence ... I'll be back - as they say.

I've also had a much-needed Alexander Technique lesson but was ten minutes late as the traffic in and around Guildford is at the moment a Living Hell. Apparently some lorry has overturned and the whole of the south-east has ground to a halt. I felt much more chilled after the lesson though, thank goodness. I needed it for the long journey home ...

Oh, and I've just received a rejection (groan) from the second publisher I sent my long poem too. I still like it, but I don't think I have the heart to send it out anywhere else. Too much effort. I don't think I'll be writing another one of that length either. But, talking of poetry, I'm making plans to self-publish my first forty meditations and am thinking of using I-universe this time round, as Lulu seems very ponderous sometimes, not least when you approach them as someone attempting to buy one of their books. Or maybe I'm just unlucky when I try to buy?? So if anyone has any pressing warnings about I-universe that I need to take into account, I'd be hugely grateful for the benefit of your wisdom. Thank you!

Tonight, I must catch the last of the Torchwood radio plays on the i-player. So far they've been great fun. And later, Eight out Ten Cats is on TV, so that should give me my essential Friday night comedy quota. Ooh, and there's pizza and ice cream for dinner too. What bliss.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Brokeback article
3. An article about me in Writers' News
4. Finishing the notes for The Gifting
5. Alexander Technique lesson
6. Thinking about my next poetry collection
7. Torchwood
8. TV
9. Food.

Anne Brooke
Anne Brooke - puzzling over poetry

Books, Shakespeare and the great G P Taylor himself

Delighted to find that the lovely Rosy Barnes at Vulpes Libris has just uploaded my article on self-publishing and that already it has inspired a lot of really interesting and thought-provoking comments. Including one from the great G P Taylor himself. Well, gosh. I always wanted to include myself in the same paragraph as a New York Times bestselling author, and now I have! My work here is done, Carruthers. Thank you and goodnight. Seriously though, do have a read and let me know what you think. My feeling is the times are most definitely a-changing and self-publishing is long overdue for a serious rebranding in the minds of the publishing world. Long long overdue. After all, readers don't have a problem with self-published books, so why the hell should the book world?? Food for thought anyway, I hope.

And thank goodness I'm feeling rather better today - or at least a little further up from the vast Slough of Despond I was drowning in yesterday. Thank you all so much for your messages of support - they've been really appreciated, and I do agree with many of your comments, and will attempt to do something about them in the near future. In the meantime, I've managed another early night (good God, pass the smelling salts, someone ...) and I've upped my Vitamin B dose, thus cocking a snook at the worry-mongers of yesterday's news bulletins. Anyway, thank you.

This lunchtime, I popped into see my sick friend, who is feeling hugely better compared to last week, which is a big relief. We discussed, amongst other things, the Times crosswords, Graham Greene, Anthony Powell (am I the only person in the world who read Dance to the Music of Time - in the wrong order - when I was 13? Lordy, perhaps that's what's made me the sane pillar of the community I am today ...) and Shakespeare's use of words. Hell, it's been that kind of a day, really. Pseuds' Corner has nothing on us.

And I can thoroughly recommend Sarah Stovell's debut novel, Mothernight. A tour-de-force of poetry, pain and grief. Just how I like my reading. Some lovely turns of phrase and I particularly enjoyed Olivia's growth throughout the story and the incredible humanity of Katherine, the step-mother. Powerful stuff indeed. Very insightful about unforgiveness, to my mind, and how to live with it. I've also just finished Jane Draycott's poetry collection, Prince Rupert's Drop. I'm not sure, to be honest, that it really held together as a collection, though some of the individual poems, such as "Jacob Wrestles with the Angel", "Land Girl" and the final poem, "What matters", are mind-blastingly good. It's just that for the rest, I think - bizarrely - that the words got in the way of the meaning or obscured it. Not at all like Shakespeare then. My feeling is that really Draycott can do better.

Anyway, tonight I'm not writing again (goodness, how liberating!) and instead Lord H and I are going to see "A Touch of Danger" at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre. A thriller involving an author who isn't quite as dead as everyone thinks he is? Good Lord then, there's hope for us all ...

Today's nice things:

1. The Vulpes Libris article
2. Talking about books
3. The theatre.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Meeting frenzies, missing calendars and a night out

Have spent all morning frantically attempting to arrange the Student Induction meetings over the summer without screaming and diving through a window. I’m going to start a campaign to ensure that all my key people go on holiday at the same time so I can shoehorn them into meetings together at other times without reaching for the whisky. It’s the only way forward. Neither has it been made any easier by the fact that halfway through the long and complex process, the computer decided to update itself and my calendar has now vanished. Entirely. Missing. Kaput. So my tiny post-it notes in delicate shades of orange and pink are now the only things lying between me and complete insanity. My theory is that my calendar is so peed off that it’s packed its bags and is currently at Heathrow Terminal 5 attempting to flee the country. Ha! It won’t be able to go far then.

In the midst of all this, I’ve also been researching whether Student Care Services can set up a Facebook account so we can encourage more students to attend the events we put on. I’m all for it – heck, that’s where our client base is. We just have to persuade management it’s the way to go. Talking of management, we’ve spent a jolly half-hour or so filling in a staff survey which we had to keep saving as the darn thing kept timing out –even though the intro said it wouldn’t time out (heck, is that even a verb? Who knows …) until 90 minutes had passed. Well, wrong! In addition, when we all attempted to submit it by pressing the “Submit” button, that caused it to time out too. Sigh. Apparently, too many people are filling it in and the system can’t cope. There’s something to be said for paper after all.

This lunchtime, I strolled round the campus in an attempt to enjoy the blossom (a glorious purple tree rather took my fancy) and discover some perspective. And the means of tackling the afternoon. Which, however, was significantly improved by the fact that Steph in the Health Centre (whose medical wisdom is acknowledged in Thorn in the Flesh is getting married next year, hurrah! Oh, I do love a wedding. It gives us gals something to shriek about, which is always a good thing. Well done, Steph! Can’t wait to see the ring.

Oh, and thanks to Rosy at the Vulpes Libris review site who has asked me for an opinion piece on self-publishing. Ah, you know me – I have more opinions than there are stars in the sky, and if you don’t like them then I have others. As they say. So I’ve sent her the initial article and we’ll see how it goes.

Tonight, I’m up to London to see Bryony, an old school friend – so am looking forward to that hugely and am also longing for pizza and chocolate. Must be the kind of day I’ve had.

And here’s a poem:

Expectation

A wheely-bin waits
by the bus stop.
I wonder where

it's going. I hope
it has the right fare.


Today’s nice things:

1. Steph’s good news
2. Lunchtime walking
3. Seeing Bryony.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Poetry, flash fiction and hoses

As it's the beginning of February today, I performed the ritualistic changing of the calendars last night - which is much like the Changing of the Guard, but less frequent. I must admit I'll miss gazing at the January picture of adorable Andy on my semi-naked firemen's calendar, but I now have Stuart, Mr February. Who isn't quite as sexy as Andy, but makes up for this by having a very big hose. And a nice smile. Meanwhile, Lord H has the redoubtable Uhura for February in our Star Trek kitchen calendar, so he too is smiling. Though I think he wishes they'd included her legs as well as her heaving bosom. She was always a great leg woman.

And, as is customary for the beginning of the month, I did my usual sending off of a selection of poems to the next magazine on my list. Which happens to be Smiths Knoll so, as they're renowned for returning work at the speed of light (at least in my case, sadly ...) I'm expecting my rejection tomorrow, though I haven't yet posted the envelope. I think this is what Uhura would call a temporal anomaly in the poetry world. Ho hum.

I've also written another piece of flash fiction for the Writewords (http://www.writewords.org.uk) Flash Fiction II Group competition which, this week, is on the theme, "Lie for your Life" and has to include a vehicle. I've come up with this:

Revenge:
She hadn’t wanted him to go. Not in her brand-new BMW. He smiled but his eyes were empty. ‘You don’t mind, do you? After all, I paid for it.’ She shook her head in reply. She wanted her life back. With the memory of what she’d done to the car, she knew she’d get it.

Interesting how all my flashes seem to focus on strong women - as elsewhere I write about them so rarely. Women? Love 'em but I couldn't write a whole one ... Hmm. Oh, and I've been thinking about sex scenes again today (surprise!) but haven't written one (I'm not sure sex writing and Lemsips mix, to be honest, at least not for fiction). But I have come up with a strange piece which I suspect may well be written in Michael's voice, with more than a hint of Paul from "Maloney's Law" - well, both of them are much better at this sort of thing than I am and, besides, it's probably time the man in my head had a word in edgeways (he doesn't like sickness):

Encounter

Wish I could touch you
you look so cool
there at the bar
the lights pulsating across your hair
the muscles in your arms
flexing
as you reach for your wallet
buy yourself a drink
one for your mates too
another night with the boys then
I wonder which one you’ll take home
or go home with
when you’ve danced and drunk
enough

wish it were me
though I know it won’t be
no hope of that
not when I’m alone
a man on the hunt
and you surround yourself
with a wall of playmates
I can’t break through
and even if I did
you’re too good-looking
too sexy for me to dream for
you’re not even noticing
I’m here now
are you
your eyes slide across me
every time you glance this way
so no chance

by wishing for me to unhook the buttons
of your designer shirt
release the smooth skin of your chest
to my eager mouth
no way on earth
for my tongue to touch
your lips your throat your nipples
while all the time
my fingers tremble at your groin
hardly able for excitement
to unpeel you from denim
and silk
for oh yes for a man like you
there would be silk
and then the taste of you
fire and salt
and a way of carving your shape
into my skin’s bright memory

all this and more wished for untested
untried
and still the music plays

wish you’d smiled my way just once
it could I think
have been good for you
but now even before we’ve properly met
we’re through


As you can see, Michael's not very hot on punctuation. Ah well. Nobody's perfect. For the rest of the day, I've been fairly lazy - still not 100% really. Though I'm pleased I managed to eat breakfast - the first time since Sunday, hurrah! And I've kept inside once more, which meant cancelling Counselling this morning and dance tonight. In fact I'm beginning to think that the outside world doesn't exist at all, and that I will be forced to stay indoors for ever, much like Emily Dickinson or the chap in that old TV series, "The Prisoner" (does anyone remember that apart from me and Lord H??), who could never escape the mysterious village he was in. Also, astonishingly, I actually enjoyed today's DVD romantic comedy offering! - "Along came Polly" with Ben Stiller (who has a very nice bottom indeed) and Jennifer Aniston. Hell, I thought it was sweet, and funny too. Or maybe my critical faculties are being drained away due to lack of social interaction? It's hard to say.

Oh, and good news on "A Stranger's Table", my poetry collection - it's going to be self-published via Poetry Monthly (http://www.poetrymonthly.com). Phew! I've just had a conversation with the editor, Martin Holroyd, who tells me he is thinking about the cover and will try to get the proof copy in the post to me tomorrow. So he must think it's worth advertising on his website then. Phew, again. But, bloody hell, that's certainly cut out the years of waiting before the rejection comes through, which is my usual experience. Why can't other publishers be like that? Self-publishing certainly rules the roost!

Tonight, I might try and scribble a few words of "The Gifting" down, but I really do need to finish the ironing at some stage. I am wearing unironed clothes again today, but don't tell Lord H and I should be safe ...

Today's nice things:

1. Writing
2. Watching my DVD
3. Beginning the publication process for "A Stranger's Table".

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk

Oranges and poetry

Well, the combination just has to be good for you. And today oranges are the only fruit. Or at least they are in the Lord H/Brooke household, where the supply of apples and bananas has reached the vanishing point. And no chance of me getting to the shops before Wednesday. Ah well. I do have a small supply of dried apricots, so should still be able to keep scurvy at bay.

The usual Monday morning drag today. It was an effort being awake, let alone attempting to look like a competent administrator. I think it’s the same for everyone though, as we were all heads down and no talking. Or perhaps we were all actually asleep and the typing noise was simply everyone’s noses rebounding off the keyboard. Wouldn’t surprise me, but I couldn't be arsed to turn round and check.

Took the minutes for the Wellbeing Group at lunchtime. It was a bit fluid, but we do have some ideas - hurrah! One of which is the Students' Union coming up with the goods once more. They're organising a "Know Yourself" month during February and March, with a focus on mental wellbeing and self-awareness. Sounds great to me - luckily staff are included, so we won't have to chain ourselves to the door and beg to be let in to the fun stuff again. That'll make a change.

This afternoon, I found myself sinking into a slough of despond again, and only managed to drag two pages of the minutes out of my notes and up onto the screen - when really I could easily have got the whole lot done. Got quite tearful a couple of times, but I don't think my immediate colleagues noticed. Thank God. I do hate explanations which involve weeping. Mine, that is. Though Sally from Student Advice did pop in and had a lovely chat with me - I can always talk to her (thank you, Sally!) - and we've arranged to go for coffee when we're both free in a couple of weeks' time, so that will be nice. Apparently, this may not - for once! - be all my own fault though, as today is supposed to be the most depressed day of the year. Bloody hell - I didn't know there was a rule. Think we should have been warned! Still, at least Lord H sent virtual hugs through the email, which are always appreciated, as in: (((Anne))). He's a genius with the keyboard ...

Oh, and I made two important decisions last night – mainly for my own mental wellbeing, let alone anyone else’s. I’ve decided to stop putting “Maloney’s Law” in the marketplace and have offered it to the Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) Gang. One reply is keen so far (thanks, Irene!), but no response from the others yet. But don’t get too excited if the answer is yes, as it’ll take its place in the queue along with everything else, so I imagine the back end of 2008, at the very earliest. But there's lots of other good Goldenford stuff coming before then, so don’t forget to save up for the best books in the south!

And I’ve decided to self-publish another poetry collection – my last one was in 2004, so it’s about time for another, I think. I’m not going to wait for any more small publishers not to respond (there’s really no point trying the main poetry publishers – unless you’re related to Hughes or Plath, they don’t even bother replying …), so I’ve sent an email to Poetry Monthly Press (http://www.poetrymonthly.com) to see if they’re interested in printing it. They run a small self-publishing facility for poets, and it would be nice to get something out there this year that I can at least control. And it’ll have some award-winning and magazine-published pieces in, so probably worth a couple of quid or so. And hey stop press on this - Martin Holroyd from PMP has asked me to send him a floppy disc of the collection, which I'm calling "A Stranger's Table" after one of the poems in it. So I've spent tonight getting it organised and copied to disc. It's now wrapped in an envelope within an envelope ready for posting tomorrow. I hope he agrees to let it go through his system, as I know he doesn't take everything.

Ooh, and the lovely Sue Haywood has decided to opt for playtime advertising of "Pink Champagne and Apple Juice", a picture of which you can see here: http://www.teafriendsandchocolate.com/sue/ - under her blog of today's date. Great picture, Sue! Thank you very much! Not sure what Health & Safety would say though ...

And Lord H (bless him!) has bought apples and bananas, to add to our orange supply - so they're not the only fruit after all ...

Today’s nice things:

1. Making two publication decisions
2. Getting through Monday - thank God!
3. Seeing the picture on Sue's site.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Counselling and decisions

Not two things which really should be combined, at least not in the same day, but there it is. That's the way the biscuit falls sometimes.

Counselling this morning was good, if challenging. We talked (or rather I talked and Kunu listened, with occasional interjections) about Christmas and how to survive it. Answer: do less out of obligation and more from enjoyment, which was what I'd tried to do in fact, with up and down results. We also touched on the whole shit-hot (at least for me) subject of achievement and personal value. Ay, there's the rub, eh? The issue being that the whole reason I get so worked up if things don't go well is that I'm pre-programmed to react to failure in one area as if it means that my whole life and self are completely without any value whatsoever. No wonder I get so bloody depressed - I admit I've probably always known this, but it's the first time I've spoken it aloud to someone else in such seriousness. So I'm stuck in this trap of not feeling fulfilled if I don't do well (in writing, publishing, work, anything, damn it!) and then not feeling I'm really worth it if I do. Ye gods, I'm amazed I'm still functioning at all.

Anyway, the upshot is that Kunu and I are going to look at my childhood in depth to see where it all went haywire and how I can deal with it now. Yes, psychoanalysis rules! - I'm going to be talking to my inner child who probably spends most of her life being shit-scared and wondering what the bloody hell is going on. Still, at least it'll make a change from talking to Michael (query: are there going to be enough seats in Kunu's counselling room for everyone in here?), and I can add an extra person to my personal schizophrenia sheet. Hurrah. And, weirdly, it does make sense to me.

After all that, I popped in to see Gladys and made normal person conversation (if loudly) for a while. Gladys' Christmas was dull, apparently, and she's glad it's back to the usual routine. We spent some time agreeing that 2007 is ridiculous as she'd only just got used to 2006, and smiling at Lord H's paper plane obsession.

Back home - and, oh Lord, another bloody rejection. This time from Snowbooks, who say that "Maloney's Law" is a "fine novel", adding that "in the length of time it's taken for us to get back to you, another publisher must surely have taken it on." Ha bloody ha. Slap my thighs and wait for the punchline. Taking earlier paragraphs into account, this meant that I was at once weeping at the worthlessness of my own existence, and gnashing my teeth and wanting to kill a publisher - any publisher - (or rather rip them limb from agonised limb) at the pure bloody frustration of yet again being told my work is good but that nobody will publish it. I am so bloody pissed off that, if told, you would probably not believe it. Or then again maybe you would.

Isn't it about time that publishers (however charming and adorable in their personal lives - and I am sure they are all angels of course ...) did three things: (a) got their act together to respond to people within a reasonable timescale if only out of common courtesy and if only to say that they haven't got round to your book yet; and (b) understood at least one tenth of the hell they make us go through while we wait - perhaps by having one tooth removed every month of waiting, without anaesthetic and whilst (as the good Alan Rickman once said) having their organs removed with the aid of only a spoon; and (c) stopped putting those hellishly frustrating "consolation honeycomb" statements in any reject letters at all. Under any circumstances. Take note, publishers: a simple "no" is fine. Never tease your victim. Trust us - we know when we're good. At least in those rare moments of confidence, we do. But we don't get those from the trade.

Anyway. Rant over - although the pain remains. And all this has been making me think more deeply along the lines I've been considering for a while now. I've been thinking that when "The Gifting" is finished, edited and proof-read (only 500 words done today, but hell I'm surprised I did any, to be frank ...), I might not put myself in the commercial publishing ring at all, as it's actually beginning to be more grief than I can take. Instead, I might simply ask my fellow directors at Goldenford (http://www.goldenford.co.uk) if they'd like to add it to our lists at any stage or, if not, then go down the self-publishing route once more. I certainly get a hell of a lot more enjoyment out of either self-publishing or going via Goldenford than I've ever got from the outside publishing world. And yes, I know that approach would make things extremely difficult with my agent, and no doubt bring us to the end of the road, but to be honest I don't think either of us would be that surprised. It's not, after all, as if I've ever been deemed important enough even to meet him. Another thing that rankles and makes me feel well up in the Z List priority stakes. Hey ho.

Tonight, I don't think I'll be doing very much. The day has drained me enough already so anything more than slumping on the sofa and vegging is beyond me. Again. Talking of which, Lord H and I watched last night's ending episodes of "Torchwood" with mixed feelings. Hell, the storyline was almost good - for once - and I even began to care about some of the people (namely Owen and Ianto. The rest of them, including Cap'n Jack, are just filling). But what the hell was that ridiculous Walt Disney storyline about two men kissing in the middle of a crowded 1940s dance floor??!! Along with the next gay man (or straight woman), I'm more than happy with some good boy-on-boy action, but please make it fit the context! In the real life of the time, they would have probably been jeered out of the hall and stoned to death by all those super-macho soldiers. As Lord H said, no wonder one of the kissing couple died in action the following day - his platoon probably shot him down themselves. And the other thing was: what was that equally stupid and very laughable last-minute King Kong-type creature all about? If I'm planning something really evil in today's modern world, I'd make it a damn sight more subtle that that. Less is more, after all. We're not in the 1950s now, you know. It would, in my opinion, have been far more horrific to have had the charming but creepy old man turn out to be the Personification of All Destruction (or whatever), and then the heroes could have worked to overcome him - as at least he turned up earlier on in the episode, so we knew he was there. Unlike King Kong. Badly done, Team Torchwood. A real cop-out.

That said, I will probably watch the next series - if only because of Owen and Ianto acting everyone else's socks off. So Russell Davies is still laughing all the way to the bank.

Which brings me to:

Today's nice things (oh hell):

1. Counselling (strangely)
2. Thinking about career decisions (bizarrely)
3. Ripping apart Torchwood (satisfyingly).

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com