But that do what people say... No, wait. That's what person say when... No. Gah! What could it be?

I don't know what I'd do without your advice on sentence structure, MS Word. 

Not your standard dog.

Today I was referred to, by the local dog 'expert' at the park, as "the lady with the Kerry Gold." 

Firstly: my dog has been mistaken for all sorts of breeds, but never for a brand of butter. 

Secondly: lady? 

Tonks, the Kerry Gold Terrier, and her friend Luna, the Chinese Chicken cross Bichon Frites. 

...the rest of the sentence is.

I found this half-finished sentence in my notebook from some time last week. I really can't remember what it is they seem to instantly forget. It's as though the sentence itself is sentient and has somehow made me instantly forget. 

It just wrote itself.

On Friday I emailed the first episode of my radio sitcom off to a production company, and yesterday I posted it to another company. When I'd done that, I pretty much spent the day writing the 3rd episode (I'm still working on the 2nd episode). 

The entire episode was finished in a day. It really caught me by surprise, I'm not used to things writing themselves quite in the way this one did. It's being read by a fellow writer, then I'll commence redrafting in a few days. 

Today I've had a break from writing for most of the day, although I have been wrestling with the plot of the 2nd episode. It's almost there, but not quite. Then comes the fun bit of actually writing the script! 

I'm aiming to have the 2nd episode script finished by the end of next week. 

In the meantime, I seriously need to do some housework. 

An unexpected side effect of being recently single.

What am I supposed to do with all the thoughts in my brain now I live on my own? My brain is fit to burst with rubbish that normally I would say out loud, but there's little point in doing that now, the dogs aren't interested unless I say a word that rhymes with park. 

I've written down as much of it as I can in various places but it just keeps coming. 

I get the nagging feeling I'm being subjected to a very manipulative advertising campaign.

I get this combination of leaflets through my door on a fairly regular basis. Life is confusing enough without someone having to ram that confusion into my house (quite literally today actually, the internal bit of my letter box landed half way up my hallway from the force with which my daily junk was thrust through). It's irritated me so much I think I might order a pizza for comfort. And then I better join Slimming World to cancel it out.

But think of all the writers who are in their 80s

During my most recent time of thinking it would be a good idea to start writing again (ie now, it happens about biannually), I'm constantly reminded of this conversation from Cabin Pressure: 

DOUGLAS: Two things, Arthur: Australian accents aren’t genetic; and you can’t do one.
ARTHUR (still in the dreadful accent): Well, you’re entitled to your opinion, sport!
CAROLYN: Arthur!
ARTHUR (normal accent): Sorry. Also it’s good because it means I can play cricket for either England or Australia, whichever need me.
MARTIN: Can you play cricket?
ARTHUR: Don’t know. I’ve never tried.
DOUGLAS: Arthur, you’re almost thirty. Don’t you think you’re leaving it a little late to embark upon your career as an international sportsman?
ARTHUR: Not really. Shane Warne is forty-one.
MARTIN: Yes, but he’s retired. I mean, that’s like saying Geoffrey Boycott’s in his seventies.
ARTHUR: You see? Well there you are, then.
(Carolyn’s phone trills a text alert.)
CAROLYN: Ah-ha! Gordon’s finally finished. He’ll meet us in the office in half an hour.
ARTHUR: Oh no! I still haven’t got him anything!
CAROLYN: Arthur, you really don’t need to …
ARTHUR (running off): Yeah, I’ll meet you there!