the weekend

My weekend consisted of:

(a) doing bugger all; and
(b) looking at houses to buy.

I think I enjoyed (a) most of all.

I needed to get some work done over the weekend, but didn't do it. In fact, it's still not done because today has been frantic. Even more frantic than expected.

Just as I think it's all starting to fall into place, yet another crisis arises.

So to amuse myself and others, I'll type up another story from my youth. This was written for English class when I was 16yo (grade 11). We were supposed to describe a scene using all 5 senses. I remember being very disappointed at the time when I only got a C.

"The room is cold, a deep penetrating freeze that comes in from the open windown, leading to the white glittering snow outside. Lying on the bunk is a small, wiry man with dark hair retreating over his domed head, giving him the appearance of a placeid English gentleman. His skin is tanned and leathery from many days in the hot Eastern sun. His expensive white silk pajamas are stained by the deep red blood which has slowly spread through the soft material, making rusty splotches on the finely-woven fabric. Many deep slashes have severed the flimsy threads and parted his burnished skin to reveal the white bone and sinewy muscle beneath. His eyes are deep set and stare craftily and unmercifully at me in death, the hawk-like nose is jagged and out of place with the rest of his aged good looks. They portray an aura of evil that is impossible to ignore. The wind whistles in through the open window. The acrid stench of old blood fills the room, competing with the fresh smell of newly-fallen snaow and I imagine the sweet perfume of the dead man's cologne. The bitter taste of rising bile sickens me as I run from the room in horror."

I reckon that could compete with some of those lines in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest!

Listening to: Monsieur Camembert - Live on Stage