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I came back home from the USA with a spring in my step, ready to restart my writing career and continue with my fitness regime. I should have just laid on the lounge and waited for the feelings to pass.
While I was in Nashville and Cincinnati, I was going to the gym every day, trying to counteract both the American diet and the American sized pourings at the bar. I planned to continue this by joining one of those 24/7 gym chains when I got home. I chose one particular gym because it was a two minute walk from my house. I know myself.
I arrived home in Australia and that very same day, the roof of said gym caved in. I mean, not just a couple of tiles. All the tiles falling through the ceiling and landing on top of the gym equipment. Not ideal.
Part two of my plan was to set up more of a routine for my writing. I’ve really enjoyed writing this blog. (Thank you to my three readers who I think are all related to me.) So I decided to focus my fiction writing on funnier crime novels. I mean, who doesn’t like funny crimes? In any case, this decision required me to actually write on a regular basis. Before I left to go on my latest trip, I had set up an outdoor office, on the deck of the main house, overlooking my tiny house. I even had a heater for cold weather.
So my plan was, after joining the very close-by gym, I would be sitting outside, writing for hours each day.
On Days 1 and 2 the men in white suits turned up to demolish parts of the neighbouring house and remove asbestos. Did I mention plumes of suspicious looking dust? Day 3, it was jack hammering from 7.30am. When they weren’t jack hammering they were smoking. After a week, I thought it was over, but then the new neighbours decided to have day-long bonfires to burn off the old garden waste. To cap it all off, they (or to be fair it could have been different neighbours) chose to put fertiliser on the garden. The stink was unbelievable. No outdoor office for me. Ever.
These people, let’s call them the Thwarters, were really taking the thwarting to a new level.
But two can play this game. I realised that now I’m a big girl, I can leave my house whenever I want to. So I did what all good writers do. Go on a trip and call it research. And low and behold, here I am, writing something. Take that, Thwarters!
Too funny! Keep writing.
I will! The Festival continues…
Bahahaha I’m surprised YOU weren’t injured just walking to the gym, Little Miss Hap; such injuries, or thwartings if you will, never happen if you just stick to sitting in comfortable cafes sipping coffees like I do. You just need to avoid eating so much cake that you feel (and gradually see) the need to go to the aforementioned gym. By the way, we had our own Thwarters for 9 1/2 years in Darwin: they lived in the apartment across the grassed lawn in the next block to ours, and their habit of living outside on their balcony 24-hours a day all year round (Darwin, remember) talking loudly to each other or on the phone led to us naming them The Shouters. Some did shift work, so they could talk loudly out there every night till 6am with no thought that others may wish to sleep or open their doors and windows. They didn’t actually argue or shout, but spoke loudly and obliviously and constantly. We never once opened our bedroom balcony door in 9 1/2 years of living in Darwin! This is truly evidence of their impact on our lives. But I wish we’d thought to call them the Thwarters. Perhaps due to the length of time and totality of impact, they would be The Blighters.
Well I benefited from your little visit to the City, since we got to enjoy a lovely Italian lunch (more fodder for the gym resolution), and discuss the options for humorous crime; I have already ‘used’ several of your incidents to amuse Mark since then. And I will happily edit for you, ensconced in the European Office, starting with “Lo and behold”….
You are too funny – Miss you
Miss you too! The thwarters remind me of the office girls at French school…