My poor face

My poor face doesn’t like what I’ve just done: it’s expecting to be on the receiving end of slammed doors, cold shoulders and scornful looks. Yes, I’m sending off The Goblin of the East Hill to agents.

I think someone will like it – otherwise I wouldn’t do this – but once the submission is out there I’m mainly expecting failure, with a very, very small amount of hope. Very small.

I’ve sent it to …

No, I’m not going to name them, as they might be the agent who says yes (but they probably won’t).


Tuesday’s Childe

Today being Tuesday I was at Tuesday’s Childe again: that’s the collaborative theatre collective I’m part of. It was a time for re-appraisal and a spot of re-grouping, but we came out of the end of the meeting with a much clearer idea of where we were heading and how we were going to get there. We also agreed to get our wordpress site up and running:

And to round it off, we learned a song: Cold blows the wind. You can hear it – rather better than I can sing it – on John Boden’s A Folk Song A Day. It is a morbid, gloomy song, but absolutely perfect for our work in progress.

Westron wind

So, there we are, looking for songs or poems about the four winds. The North wind is easy, for it doth blow/ and what will poor robin do then, poor thing? The South wind, well, Blow the wind southerly wraps that up (and, yes, there is a faint Kathleen Ferrier-eque lilt in my head as I type the title). But what of the West wind? Nothing. We scratched our collective head, until a search turned up this beauty:

‘Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow,
The small raine down can raine.
Cryst, if my love were in my armes
And I in my bedde again!’

There’s a backstory to it, but it surprised me as I knew the last three lines, but with a different first line (which I can’t now remember).  But that anonymous verse is a perfect fit for our West wind.

Still looking for the East wind.

Einstein’s banana

Another cracking improv session with Magic If last night at Live Theatre. Two hours of head-stretching learning and story-telling. Together we found the truth about Einstein and his pickled banana, Florence Nightingale and her sledge hammer, and Justin Timberlake and his swan – a very touching tale. We also learned to keep it in the box, which is more important and difficult than it sounds.