Only thirteen hours of legalised drug dealing and sixteen hours of sleep before the big T. I have located one suitable blue gown in the style of P & P & Z, one bottle of fake blood, and one toy ninja sword, which refuses to fit into the suitcase.
Not sure what other festival punters are doing in Newcastle, but I plan to visit a) the op shops b) the bike shops and c) the sea baths. If I have time, I might go to the following: Free-To-Air Television is for Old People and Idiots, How to Write a Craicin’ Limerick, and the Spelling Bee.
There’s a whole bunch of other less fun, more useful stuff, like how to be an environmentally friendly literary magazine or how to pitch, but after much legalised drug dealing and struggling with a writer’s block the size of the Great Wall, I’m thinking ‘holiday first, continuing education second’, even if the education is of the writerly kind. In other words, I won’t be blogging as much as I usually do for literary festivals…
Now I feel guilty.
No, I’m not breaking up with you.
I know I have been distant lately.
It’s not your fault.
Maybe we need some time apart.
Um. Argh, Deakin’s being invaded by elephant-sized cockroaches.?