Urging gently

I have the urge to write – creatively – but I’m not sure I have the patience to do it properly at the moment and I think I’m too tired as well, so instead I’m blogging. Maybe you’ll know what I mean.

I have an idea for a sitcom that, frankly, plays so well to the imaginary audience in my head that they alternate between laughing loudly and weeping gently.

I don’t want to give too much away because I think this is a flyer. It plays on a humorous level that’s dangerously close to the funny-bone-ometer set by Coupling, Men Behaving Badly and Game On.

I’ve written the characterisations, I’ve drafted the first episode, I’m working on the second.

So yes, I have the urge to write – creatively – pretty badly right now. But, as I said, I’m not sure I have the patience to do it properly right now; not sure I can give it the attention to detail that it deserves. And I’m tired.

So instead I’m watching Soph pad around the lounge, naked (it is a very diverting sight!), while Grey’s Anatomy plays in the background and my nose is assaulted by the smell of ‘setting’ Pot Noodle.

And I’m patting at the laptop keyboard in an attempt to try and ease the creative pressure that’s being built-up by the creative head of steam because if I don’t then I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight.

My head is spinning with the sitcom, sketches, set-plays, one-liners; they’re rotating and tumbling like a hundred iconic drawings each painted on the back of a playing card. A hundred floating, spining, tumbling playing cards being blown by some mad kind of creative wind.

I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open and yet my head is on cruise control at 70mph and showing no signs of slowing down.

I have to leave the house at 6am, get up the yard and ride Tom; he needs to be well-exercised, then cooled and back in his stable for breakfast at 7.30. While he’s eating I’ll groom and rug him up.

Why the early morning activity?

Because after the exercise and the feeding he’s going in to his new, super-high-fenced turnout tomorrow; the first time Tom will be turned out off the lead-rein for almost three weeks.

So my not-so-cunning plan is to wear him out and feed him up and hope that if he is both knackered and full-bellied, these factors will curtail any ‘going totally mental’ tendencies he might have tucked under his little brown belt, waiting for the day he gets turned out for the first time in almost three weeks.

Have I mentioned how tired I am?