Friends and writing...

A day spent with friends, real , online and in a book is always a day well spent in my opinion.
 
I started off the day at the PC with friends on-line, answering e-mails, facebooking and promoting my book amongst other things. I am pleased to say that sales are going well at just over thirty copies on order or sold directly from the website.

Returning to my other favourite place in the house - the kitchen I baked a few muffins, and made some spicy lime pickle.

Liam called as he was at the sports field down the road watching Rugby so we invited him to drop in for a cuppa and a muffin. A few minutes later he was on the doorstep. We spent the afternoon in the garden talking about angels, energy and experiences. Liam recently had a serious car accident so we were really pleased to see him, almost back to fighting fit, and spend some time with him.  A little later Denise popped in with Pilar, for more chatting and Oracle card moments in the garden.


After they'd all gone I returned to  my virtual friend Joey in London, and his quest for stardom.  I'd got a bit behind with my writing what with celebrating 'The Magic' yesterday and working etc, but am now back on target with a word count of 25,555. Have you noticed Janey how those numbers 5 are back! 

So, you wanna sneak preview of Joey's story? I have been asked to give an insight into the story by giving a bit of the tale out now so here's the first couple of paragraphs. All comments gratefully received... but please be kind!

ONE - Waiting

It feels like I’ve been standing in this queue for ages, but I guess it’s only an hour or so in reality. Besides I’m the one who decided, with a little encouragement, to come here and join the snake of a thousand, and then some, hopefuls. At least the queue has been gradually moving forward, although so slowly it’s almost unnoticeable.  The noise the crowd is making is incredible and at times deafening. At times  I’m wondering what on earth I’m doing here, and at least twice I’ve almost jumped the barriers and run off to the closest pub.  It’s baking hot under the midday sun and a pint seems infinitely more enticing that standing in this queue for the next hour or so. If I gave up now though I’d never forgive myself and I'd never know just what I really am capable of. What a way to spend a day off!

The front of the queue and the registration desks are now in sight as I stand here in my best, and I must say arse-huggingly sexy jeans. I’m sure they show my packet off to my advantage too, judging by the number of times I got cruised on the tube on the way here. I took my time choosing what to wear this morning, not sure whether to play the little-boy-lost card, or to go for the stud with attitude look. I think I’ve settled somewhere in between, anyway I’ve never quite managed ‘attitude’ without looking dumb, and as for stud that’s a story for a whole different time, and probably age-group, but I guess I’ll get round to it before my story’s told.

So here I am, as I said in my best and remarkably creaseless jeans, a polo shirt that hugs my pecs as well as the jeans do the job downstairs and I’m as nervous as hell, but I have a good feeling that things will go right. It’s that gentle buzzing sensation down there that usually comes before a special night out that’s making me feel on a pre-show high.

Okay, now I am at the front, just a couple of over-blond Essex girls in front and I’ll be there, registering.  Hang on a minute: just before I move forward I’m stopped by the delectable Russell, The Pop-Sensation presenter, who asks if I’ll have a chat with him on camera.  He’s as good looking up close and personal as he is on the box, and he wants to talk to me. Of course I agree to chat with him. He tells me to relax and just be myself, then the cameras are rolling and we’re chatting like we were the best of buddies. He asks me why I’m here, “Duh” I think but say “Because I’ve got the voice, the looks and the talent to win this competition”. His reply is along the lines of how confident or cocky, which as he says it I’m sure, or do I mean hoping,  he’s checking me out, well my trouser-shape anyway. I’d heard a rumour or two that he batted for the other side that I can only hope is true. He ends our on-camera chat by wishing me good luck, and as the camera pans away to the crowd- he gives me a hug. Now I know he’s not really interested as the hug is at arm’s length only –no body touching just the way many straight guys try to impersonate intimacy with their gay friends. Once again the crowd is shouting the inane chant they’ve been shouting on and off for the last few hours and Russell is off to chat to a leggy brunette in the tightest black dress you can imagine. I’d take a bet now that she won’t get the arms-length hug. Despite my nerves I feel that old familiar stirring as I watch Russell moving away, and have to quickly think of crossword solutions, or nuns in prayer to prevent anything embarrassing being apparent as I approach the crotch-level registration desk.................................................