March 28, 2017

Laidlaws Rule

Posted in March tagged , , , , , , at 10:42 am by viewfromthisdesk

So I was mooching around the social aching face the other day and came upon a posting by a website called 22 Words.  I’m not sure if this is where it all started but it’s where I found it and I’m not bothered to search any further.

This posting stated there is a new thing called ‘Laidlaws Rule’ and this was invented by someone called Marc Laidlaw.  I’m sure it’s not at all technical or full of science but it is incredibly fun.  This rule states:-

‘The first line of almost any story can be improved by making sure the second line is ‘And then the murders began.’ ‘

Now, if I’m making the effort to battle through the finger joint pain and screaming bones everywhere else to type this post and share this with you, then you have to try this rule.  It is quite simply brilliant.  And means I got to pick up proper books for a few minutes too.

Now, as the rule states, this works for *almost* any story.  It doesn’t work for crime authors necessarily, especially not Simon Kernick who generally kills at least nine people in the first half dozen words.  It also isn’t quite so great on Haynes manuals for early Ford cars which form a large chunk of our bookcase.

However.

Take ‘Thomas and a Dragon’ based on the Thomas the Tank Engine Series by The Rev W Awdry.  Applying #LaidlawsRule to this, is as follows:

One morning the Fat Controller came to see Thomas.  And then the murders began.

You cannot tell me you did not spit your tea out a little bit at that?!

‘The Inside Track’ by Jake Humphrey

In the autumn of 2008, I was scooped up from the friendly, colourful, smiley world of children’s television and pitched head-first into one of the most high-profile, ruthless and exciting sports on the planet: Formula One.  And then the murders began.

‘Rockers and Rollers’ by Brian Johnson

When we were kids in Dunston, there were places we were told not to go, and there’s where we went – basically, anywhere dangerous.  And then the murders began.

‘The Bucket List to Mend a Broken Heart’ by Anna Bell

I glance up at the oversized clock on the office wall and it seems to be saying it’s four o’clock.  And then the murders began.

‘My Autobiography’ by Guy Martin

I’d just left the pits after the fuel stop.  And then the murders began.

 

I appreciate that three of these books are autobiographies, but that seems to be all that we have on our bookcase in proper book format since I’ve had to move to my kindle.  Two of the above aren’t autobiographies and it’s still very funny.  So, distract me from this awful joint pain and grab the book(s) nearest to you and comment how #LaidlawsRule changes your story.

 

March 2, 2017

Snoring: suffocation or separation?

Posted in March tagged , , , , , , at 2:43 pm by viewfromthisdesk

I am very aware that I only write nice things about my husband on this blog.  He freely admits he’s never read any posts but I feel I should be polite and respectful about him.  After all, he’s put up with a whole tonne of medical rubbish and supported me through the drama that is my life since 24.

Alas, I can pretend no more.  My husband is a nightmare.  I cannot rose-tinted glasses it any more.  There is no half-full, positive spin to the situation.  I am beginning to hate him and that’s not healthy.

We’ve just returned from our summer holiday.  We have to take it in February because of work so it’s a nice experience to get away from grey, dreary, miserable home and go somewhere sunny.  Yeah, the temperature change on our return is a shock and it’s horrible in the summer when everyone else is going away and we’re not but hey ho.  As usual, I caught some germ ridden lurgy on the plane back and coupled with jet lag and everything, I’ve been feeling utterly wiped out and quite down in the dumps.

Hubby is immune to all lurgy and is just bouncing around the place, relaxed, refreshed and showing off his tan at every opportunity.  I’m shattered.  I just want to sleep.

And herein lies the problem.  For some unknown reason, he’s snoring really, really badly.  Since we came back it’s like sleeping with what I imagine a bunged-up hippo would sound like.  He’s utterly unaware of it though.  It doesn’t make an ounce of difference which position he’s sleeping in, whether he’s coated in a thick layer of vics and has olbas oil all over his pillow, whether he’s had a shower immediately before bed or not.  And in my lurgy-miserable-exhausted state, I just want to suffocate him.

For a couple of evenings I’ve moved to the spare room.  My leaving the bed wakes him up and he always tells me he doesn’t want me to go.  But he doesn’t understand in his slumbering state that I WANT and NEED to sleep.  He says he’ll try not to snore but I’m not sure he really has any control over it.  If I stay in bed, I’m staring at the ceiling, bunching up the duvet in my hands in an effort to control my urge to punch him really hard in the ribs.  I’m tense and angry and not at all relaxed or calm or anywhere near sleep.

But the spare bed is not my bed.  I do not have a me-shaped dent in the mattress where I curl and fit perfectly.  The pillows are not covered in sleep-spray in my foolish effort to drug myself into slumber.  The room is not perfectly dark, the shadows are different and it’s not mine.  He refuses to sleep in the spare room, there is no discussion about it once I ask and he says no.

So, at 1.30am I moved to the spare room.  At 3am this morning, when I’m still wide awake and I know the alarm is going off for him in a couple of hours time and he’ll wake me with his gallumping around, I’m in the spare room, crying with frustration and exhaustion.  I don’t know what to do.

I’m working every day this week because we’ve returned to a busy and full diary.  Yey.  But I’m a zombie.  And it’s hard not to be grumpy ALL THE TIME.  I’m fighting the urge to have an afternoon/evening nap because my OT says that’s the wrong thing to do.  And I want to sleep AT NIGHT like a NORMAL person.  ARGH.

I thought vics and olbas oil might help him breathe easier if he’s got any small trace of my germs but it’s not working.  Waking him up and asking him to change position isn’t working.  He refuses to move to the spare room and I don’t sleep much if I do.  I just can’t win.

So.  People of the blog-reading-pastime world.  What on earth do I do?  Make the spare room mine and separate?  Or just suffocate him so it’s silent?