Beach Day - Scratch That

Went out yesterday, believing a change of scenery and gut'ful of fresh sea air might do me good. Perhaps be, as it were, the flashing saber, and shear the cork end off my bottled up writing ambitions. Yeah, no, flashing the fresh scenery was, and distracting, as it turned out.

Swung by the mall first. I was multi-tasking: there was an hour and half until the tide would be as I like it; I had window shopping in mind, and one chore. Dealt with the chore: renewed auto insurance. Quickly visited HMV, EB games; Indigo Books, when I spotted it, an actual bookstore I could not walk past.

My all-time fave bookstore disappeared years ago: replaced by an Apple Store, and not mmm'tasty non-trademarked apples either.

Anyway. Exited Indigo Books with two jewels. Brit Lit, both. Terry Pratchett's, The Colour of Magic (Enjoyed Mr. Pratchett's Night Watch: wanted to begin DiscWorld from the beginning). Neil Gaiman's, NEVERWHERE (Urban alienation, and horror, and He's...Neil Gaiman: and I liked his recent add to the Doctor Who canon).

I proceeded to the beach.

Multi-tasking was my undoing, I see now.

Kayak'd, just the hour allotted. Reviewed notes, but I kept seeing rippling sun-dappled water, and wanted to kayak more than the hour allotted. Restarted reviewing notes, but there was all that unfamiliar beachy scenery. Cars and girls on bikes and people and cars and thundering trucks all flashing by. And the kayak, just there. Began reading NEVERWHERE, because I didn't feel like reviewing nor scribbling more than a few notes. Then hit the sun'headache from squinting at the beachy scenery. Or maybe from trying too hard. After lunch, when I'd sucked dry the two juiceboxes of non-trademarked apple, I packed, went home.

No, not the fun and productive beach day I'd envisioned.

Today, this afternoon, I'm home and happy at screen and keyboard, currently doing but one thing, and in pleasantly unstimulating surroundings.