It is hot today. So gosh-darned fricking hot. London hisses with the collective sizzle of erstwhile-covered millions currently broiling as they fling their clothing to the winds and worship the sun with pink abandon.
I sat outside on our little bench this morning, hoping to beta-read my colleague's work and catch up on some admin before the day got too warm. Then the police came to tell me off. I had my top off and the glare from my pasty skin was posing a hazard to any passing motorists. Three middle-aged men went blind as they rolled past in their Audi convertibles, the Chris DeBurgh booming.
I went back inside, maroon with embarrassment, and maroon with sunburn.
Now, I like the heat, it is pleasant by the sea, or...nope that's it. London heat is heavy and oppressive. Like the Man, yeah? #satire.
My novel, THE FORGOTTEN 47 is currently with the beta-readers, so what is one to do on such a day? Clearly any form of physical activity is a suicidal fantasy. I can't watch telly. Instead I did what any self-respecting author does; create a website! Thanks for checking it out.
This is the blog. I'll probably just ramble on a bit here, tell lies like the police thing above, crack jokes, keep you all (hi mammy) updated about any new stories or poems being sent out, or any news about my novel, THE FORGOTTEN 47. For some reason I'm always going to put that in capitals, like what a professional done does.
If you'd like to read some of my short stories or poetry, please follow the links in the main website bit. It's too hot to write any more. Please send ice and after-sun.
Stay cool, amigos!
(shudder, you're neither cool, nor Spanish, nor from a 1970's action film set in the desert. Try harder, Conor.)
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