Home cinema...

For one month, and one month only, a neat projector was mine all mine...

I watched Koyaanisqatsi, Police Squad, The Godfather and a little bit of Annie Hall too...

Then Mum came and took it back again. Gutted.

Still, at least she knows what I want for Christmas now.

The Scribbler dons red hat and openly invites ridicule...

Do your worst... I think it looks rather stylish.

The Family Express (1990) and the beginning of the Scribbler

This is the first issue of the 'Family Express,' which was my attempt to start a small newspaper when I was nine years old...

...no joke.

The small town I lived in, Chipping Norton, had it's own local monthly newspaper and I remember spending several happy months at Primary school doing a media studies project. Then my imagination kicked into overdrive...

I called it the Family Express because a) it was mostly about my family (ahhh) and b) my family read the Daily Express an awful lot (bows head)

Having thought of a name, I appropriated an old typewriter (this was in the days before desktop publishing) and got a 20p advance from a handful of neighbours (who seemed really encouraging at the time, even if they were probably disappointed that all the news was about, well, my extended family) and my Dad promised to photocopy it all at work (for a print run of ten copies. Which sold out, BTW).

I drew cartoons, reported on the birth of my cousin, rambled on about David Platt and Nottingham Forest and Dan Dare...

I even broke a few copyright laws by inserting comic strips from real newspapers like the Gambols. The village police turned a blind eye to it though... phew.

Then I sent the first copies off to my nearest and dearest. Having decided on a 20p cover price, I doubled my pocket money (or sweet money, for that was how it was spent) in the process.

I still remember how being the editor of my own small newspaper seemed so magical... it was the first (and last) time I've ever experienced real power, I think.

Then, after several months of fun, I suddenly realised the pressure was getting to me, I think. I suddenly decided to stop rembling on and instead abruptly returned to fun childish things like running around aimlessly, riding my bike and ultimately, grazing my knees an awful lot.

PS. Thanks to my Grandma for sorting through all her stuff and sending my old memories to me, much appreciated.

Lifesnaps # 68 - xmas party!

Random Scribble # 31

Whoopin' Picadilly

The perfect place to 'flop'

Lifesnaps # 67 - A Room With A View

Lifesnaps # 66 - London Town

Lifesnaps # 65 - trains... again

Save the deaf dog... although it might be too late. *sobs*

Deaf Dog perched on ledge... a story to make even the most hard-nosed Scribbler weep...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/6203920.stm

Busy weekend ahead...

I'll be sleeping on the lounge floor again tonight… by virtue of my being a good honourable son who'd give up his bed and luxury room for the people who gave him his very existence on this planet, for one night only.

Since Mum and Dad gave me food, lodging and very sound advice for 18 years (plus Christmas holidays) when you think about it, it’s the least I can do. So I shouldn't grumble.

Well, can't help grumbling just a little bit. Sod that I am..!

Nah, can't wait. They're in town and they're coming to the theatre tomorrow. Grand!

It's been a busy week. I had my first director's credit on telly last Saturday, while my short play gets performed tomorrow (after a morning of rehearsal) and I've also got a short film being made (apparently!) of a script I wrote two years ago..! Can you believe it? No?

But really, it's kinda happening. How? Don't know.

I keep walking up in the morning and wondering where this joy will ever end… and whether I was just dreaming it all along… give me a big slap on the face if you see me, to check (not too hard tho, I have a sensitive disposition)

This all means that for one week only, I can impress people in bars by calling myself a 'scriptwriter and director,' darling. Yay! Less of the darling, tho... not a thesbian yet.

The joys will probably last up until Christmas, then I'll be back slogging away again.

Don’t mind that, either.