I love this picture. I found it in a car boot sale this Sunday.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a big fan of Disney or Mickey Mouse. I've never really seen the appeal of a helium voiced mouse compared to the slightly more subversive antics of Tom and Jerry or Daffy Duck.

But this picture's great.

In this picture, Mickey's spine is straight, he's standing tall and he's saluting the country he loves. But while he's doing it, he's got an enormous smile on his face.

Where's my money, Vinny?

T and I have very different outlooks on life.

My philosophy is that you treat people with a bit of respect and they'll treat you decently back.

Tina's take is that everybody is out to screw you.

I'd never given that much thought until recently. We got back from France and discovered that EVERYBODY, it seems, was trying to screw us...



First off, Kick FM didn't pay me for my last month of working there. They're all nice, reasonable people at Kick FM, so I wasn't unduly worried, but apparently the cheque had gone missing in the post. Isn't it funny how cheques, compared to all other forms of correspondence, have a higher chance of going missing in the post?

Secondly, our slimy ex-landlord ummed and erred for a week and a half about returning our deposit (which he had agreed to do, in full.) Eventually, he sent us a cheque for £150 with a handwritten letter, riddled in spelling mistakes, explaining why he had kept the rest.

After repainting and steam cleaning the entire flat, his claims weren't just insulting. They took the piss. I mean, I actually laughed when I read them because it boggled my mind how this man could ever have reasonably thought he'd get away with it. Suffice to say, we're taking him to court and we're going to win. It's going to cost him a considerable amount more money than simply returning our deposit would have done.

Then, British Telecom and Homecall started fighting over our phone line. More power to them for trying to corner the market, but while we're sitting here without proper phone service and no internet, niether company is getting paid. How anybody expects to make money running a business like that, I will never understand.

Finally, I am happy to report that the U.S. Government finally gave me an appointment date for my VISA interview. Am I finally going to have a chance to see America again? Will T be reunited with her cat? Not to mention her family.

Well, before that happens, I have to provide:

1. A police certificate, proving that I have no criminal record in the United Kingdom. Cost: £29.95
2. A police certificate, proving I have no criminal record in France. Cost: (including travel) £300
3. Translation for French Police Certificate, provided and notorised by an American company (because European ones can't be trusted.) Cost: £75
4. A medical exam, including x-rays, skin, blood and HIV test, to prove that I am safe to visit the United States. Cost: £160
5. Visa processing fee (non refundable) Cost: £200
   

Total Costs: £764.95

Turns out that the thing that screws us most of all is the Government of the United States.

Back After These Short Messages

It's been so long since I last wrote - and SO MUCH has gone on.

The reason for my impromptu media blackout has been British Telecom. We moved house on the 15th and since then, we've not had telephone or internet. I also started my new job on 17th and Gcap very wisely blocks yahoo, hotmail and all the other webmail sights. Hence why their productivity has been so high!

So, basically, T and I have been thrown back to the 'dark ages' (you know, the early nineties) where we haven't been able to check email or surf effectively. And, sadly, it's not getting any better. I still won't be able to read or send emails for a few days.

But now you know why I haven't replied to any emails or updated in such a long time, I'll move on to all the exciting news.

A Bloody Stupid Way to End it All

Just more evidence that football is the most stupid game on the planet.

I had tried to avoid being caught up with the World Cup Frenzy that descended on England just before we left (although I did keep an eye on how the WAGS performed.) I was actually highly amused when England got knocked out on the Saturday we arrived. During many discussions with the French, we all agreed that England was not up to par based on their previous performances (see my post on the England vs. Paraguay match.)

However, the way they got knocked out was ridiculous.

Penalty shootouts.

You have 90 minutes of footy action and how does the game get decided? On a random shootout at the end. It's an insult. It insults the players. It insults the poor schlups who watched the match and it reduces the entire competition to a joke. Penalty shootouts are luck, interspersed by occasional flashes of skill.

That's how England got knocked out of the competition against Portugal. I thought it was ridiculous, but England needed to go anyway, so it was a means to an end.

However, last night's final - the FINAL - was decided by penalty.

Since England got knocked out of the competition, I have been supporting (as far as I would ever actually support a football team) France. Les Bleus had a strong team that performed well. They deserved to get to the final. Last night, in the 90 minutes before the penalty shootout, they deserved to win the cup, too. France was a stronger, more organised team and the Italians played dirty. Just check out Henry being knocked on his arse within the first minute of the game.

But instead of the game being about skill, tactics and endurance, the World Cup (the million pound advertising endorsement that has obsessed Europe for the last eight weeks) was decided by penalty shootout.

It was ridiculous.

Bad Bebop... No Cookie!

Bebep, the loyal Renault 19 who was bought specifically to bring us to France.... Died...

It turns out her starter motor went. I'd pretty much guessed this when we turned the key outside Gifi and the engine refused to turn over. Fortunately, T and I managed to get her bump started after pushing her down the hill three times.

Three times?

First time, Tina didn't realise she had to let up the clutch to 'bump start' a car.

Second time, Tina switched off the engine as soon as she started.

Third time? The charm.

Fortunately, we had (of all coincidences) a spare starter motor in the boot, so we drove off to Renault in Niort and they got us back on the road in less that a day, and for less that one hundred euros.

Here is the offending item:

Since then, Bebop drove me a 250 mile round trip to Nantes, where I needed to get my Police Municipale report for the U.S. Government. Then, today, she drove 100 miles round trip to La Rochelle for oysters and wine, so hopefully she's fixed.

In other news, we've been walking around Lac Lambon, which looks stunning.

We've also been lucky enough to enjoy some incredible weather and some delicious food!

We're back home on Tuesday.

This Writing Life

Ian Hocking, author of techothriller 'Deja Vu,' has a fantastic blog about his experiences in writing, plus writing in general. His first novel has gone on to win quite a lot of acclaim and two more, a sequel of sorts called 'Flashback' and a very promising comedy called 'Proper Job,' are in the works.

Since I'm at the editing stage of Adventure Eddy, I thought it would be a good idea to ask a seasoned veteran about the stages he went through when putting together a book. Ian very kindly obliged. Anybody who aspires to be an author will find this fascinating stuff.

Obviously, all of us writers have ideas flitting around our brains. But at what point did you sit up (or sit down) and decide: Based on that thought, I need to write a novel?

I've been writing fiction since I was a teenager. I don't think I had a definite plan to write a novel, but, as sixteen-year-old, I was daunted by the size of a novel, and tried to cobble one together from a few short stories. The result: a complete disaster. But I learned a lot from the experience and wrote two more novels before I sat down to write 'Deja Vu', which was published in January 2005. The impulse to write that novel was simply 'Well, I suppose I'd better get on with it'. I didn't have any overall plan for the novel, but I had some interesting characters and an interesting situation, and wondered how far I could take it.

You wrote a 120,000 word novel. How? Did you plan it out? did you sit down and write it? Did you get writer's block? Did you need to go back and change stuff you'd written? Or did it all vomit out from your brain onto the page?

With Deja Vu, I wanted to make sure that first draft was written in one go without any stoppage, even if I thought it was going badly. So I planned to write 500 words a day, seven days a week. That's not too hard; it's like keeping a diary. Eventually, after about five months, I had the first draft of a book.

You stress the importance of editing very strongly in your blog. Just how different was your first draft of, say, Deja Vu from the finished product? How did you go about editing it?

The first draft of Deja Vu was 120, 000 words, and the published version is 69,000. That means I've reduced its length by 50,000 words - seems like a lot, but, honestly, there were no significant changes to the story overall. Those deleted words were unneeded. Adverbs, descriptive passages, an unnecessary character or two. Of course, editing is more than deletion, and I added a lot too. In fact, I re-wrote the first half of the book from scratch using the original draft as a guide. I was helped a lot by my editor at the UKA Press, Aliya Whitely (whose book 'Three Things About Me' is about to be released by Macmillan New Writing). She prepared a report full of suggestions (an editor never really directs you make changes; oh no, that would be to easy). Essentially, it boils down to: What is the bare skeleton of wordage needed to tell the story? Anything beyond that should be excised. This is particularly true of the thriller genre, but probably holds for most others too, with the possible exception of the literary genre. For me, editing is vitally important. An unedited book is like an unprepared actor going on stage; some are talented improvisers, but most will die on their arse.

I think that's fascinating. Thanks a million, Ian.

Ian's excellent website, plus details of his books, can be found at ianhocking.com

Bienvenue en France!

Well, I'm happy to say that Bebop behaved on our schlep across France and we made it to Le Cliperton Trailles by about 11 o'clock at night.

Today it's a beautiful Sunday, the sun is blazing and the house looks like this:

Here are Mother and Father measuring the donkey. As one does.

And, of course, no trip to France is complete without some pictures of Piglet.

Nothing to report except a large Gin and Tonic.