In Which I Become David Moorcroft's Spokesman

Another sleep. Another elusive dream. In last night’s episode, I’d applied for a job working for British Athletics. I was to be their new spokesman. I remember meeting key figures in British sport, including David Moorcroft and Sebastian Coe. Why I had this dream has me beat, though there might have been some lingering vestige of my day among leisure consultants in the mix. It’s the only explanation I have. I don’t remember if I took the job – moving to London seemed to have been an issue – nor if I was offered it. I also can’t imagine why anybody would consider me for such a role. There can’t be many people who are less suited to being a spokesperson; lacking photogenic appeal, any sartorial flare, and having a Lancashire accent full of muddy, flat vowels.

Whatever the meaning of the dream, it was a very deep sleep. Whether I’m righteous or not, I really couldn’t say. I am moderately alert and anticipating two weeks of holiday. What I’ll be doing with that time is probably far from what I’m hoping. This Christmas, I’m in no mood to celebrate. It’s going to be quiet and I’ll be happy if I can stay where I am, at home working away on some yet-to-be-decided project. I face the New Year with the realisation that I have nothing to sell. One rather disappointing aspect about blogging is that once you’ve done your piece, it is published. Finished. That’s an end of it. I can’t go forward to sell it. I can’t make money from all my past efforts. Which means that I need something new to keep me going into the New Year and beyond. I have a series of cartoons, all based around a single theme, which I’d like to send out. I’m tempted to put them in a locked blog to see what you all think about them, but it’s the novels that really do need finishing. I’ve had two for these last six months that have always seemed promising when I go back and read what I have of them. I just need to concentrate my energies there, ignoring what I feel I should be doing with blogs.

This morning I thought it would be fun to dash of cards for some fellow bloggers. I fear there won’t be time to get one to everybody that deserves one. And some people I can’t send cards to because I don’t have their email addresses. However, it felt like a good thing to do, though I’m now running out of steam. If I miss you out, forgive me.

I’ll probably be here tomorrow, typing away about something or other. I’ll be celebrating Christmas my own way, which most people would probably find hugely depressing but I’ll be quite happy. In the meantime, let me wish you all a very Merry Christmas and all the hopes of a prosperous New Year. I’m now off to doodle while I listen to Jim Morrison growl his way through ‘LA Woman’, which remains one of my favourite tracks, and the perfect tonic for these cold days in December.