Speed dialling means I don’t know anyone’s numbers anymore.
If I break my mobile while fleeing the zombie hoards, but manage to get to a phone box, I’ll only be able to phone the following people for help:
1) my mum (same mobile number since 1993) (she’s not always in the country though)
2) My school-friend Michelle’s parents (I dialed their landline a lot in my teenage years, number is seared into my brain)
3) The Saturday Swap Shop number (defunct since the 80s)
I’m screwed. Especially if Michelle’s parents are out.
If you fancy a creative challenge tonight, why not grab a nearby person* and draw a lovely tattoo on them? If you do, don’t forget to report back!
Here’s Mr Boyfriend with his tattoo (note that this was before he’d actually seen what I drew for him)
*legal disclaimer: don’t forget to ask their permission, especially if you don’t know them.
When I was small, I didn’t have any friends. Well, I did, but none of them were real.
I didn’t just have imaginary friends, I had imaginary families and communities; there were so many of them rattling around my brain that I couldn’t keep track of them all.
So, I took my favourite notebook and started scribbling down their stories.
I’ve been writing ever since: everything from radio scripts, to computer training manuals and even the odd book.
But, these have always been pieces that other people asked me to write. And I wanted to tell my own stories: the mistakes, the adventures, the tiny triumphs of everyday.