'I've been asleep for four hours, where are we, and why do I smell bad?'

Right, so a quick recap since last time I wrote, which was on, I think, Wednesday. I got a lot of work done and am now 60 (needing a lot of work but basically okay) pages into my novel and am really happy about that. On Thursday night my housemate had some friends round for dinner and we all drank a lot. At about midnight one of her friends was playing the guitar and I fell asleep, drunk, with my wine glass balanced in my hand. My housemate took the glass out of my hand, which stayed as if it were still holding said glass, until she lifted me up and took me to my room at which point I woke and said adamantly: 'I wasn't asleep.'

It reminded me of a time when I went to Amsterdam with some friends and fell asleep all over the place, waking up and saying, 'I was just resting my eyes.' In other words - 'I've been asleep for four hours, where are we, and why do I smell bad?'

I don't know why I seem so in denial of my sleeping when drunk. I think it's because it feels like I've been rude, missing the rest of the conversation.

Once, in Amsterdam, we were all in a bit of a state and I fell asleep in a tea shop and the woman who owned it told me off saying I couldn't sleep there. My friend then went on to tell me: 'You look awful Skully. I think you're going to die Skully.' It was horrible. I must have looked pretty bad, but hearing this news made me feel even worse, as it would.

Ah. thinking about that Amsterdam trip brings a smile to my face. We had such a good time. A couple of days into the holiday we saw a street performer in the main square dressed as the Grim Reaper/Death. This sighting prompted the game (yet to be suggested to MB) 'Where's Death.' Each person has to draw a picture using a felt tip pen of Death in a funny situation. We had a lot of laughs at: death at the vets/gay club/golf/beach/hot air balloon/casino. Oh, they were great. I think the game needs a bit more development, but I think it could be a winner.

Anyway, waking up on Friday I was in no state to work so cleaned the house for Ian's arrival, then went to meet Frea for coffee. Then came home feeling a bit brighter and did some editing of my second chapter, cooked dinner with my housemate, and then Ian arrived. Hurrah!

Saturday here in Cornwall was beautiful. It was like a Summers day, really warm and cloudless sky so we got the boat across to Flushing which is a small town near Falmouth. There isn't an awful lot to do there but it was like being in another country - the roads were quiet, the houses were amazing and the people were really friendly. We had lunch next to a yachting club before coming home in the late afternoon.

The rest of the weekend was pretty lazy. We went to David and Toni's for another lovely Sunday lunch, then Ian left and I spent last night watching Brass Eye with my housemate. We had tried to watch Six Degrees of Separation, which is a really good film, but the disc was scratched and made me feel on edge watching it because I kept waiting for the next bit to jump.

Oh, that reminds me, films. On Saturday night I watched this film called Sonny, which was about a male prostitute who leaves the army, comes home and is undecided about what to do with his future. Should he return to prostitution as his mother (yes, his mother, she's his pimp) tells him to? Or should he try and do something else?

Now, the general idea of the film is okay, but we don’t really get any feeling of what it is that the protagonist actually wants and, therefore, why he can't get it. There is a vague love story with a girl that his mother is pimping out, but it's all a bit hit and miss, and the film is made of so many scenes that don’t do anything to move the plot on and instead add too many characters. I think that if this film had been more linear, it would have been quite effective but, as it is, it came across as badly acted with a lacklustre story. Even Brenda Blethyn who played Sonny's mother was a bit ropey with a strained Queens accent pronouncing 'girl' as 'goil.'

I'm only mentioning this because it made me think about my novel and worry that I might be trying to do too much in one story. I really need to look at some parts of it and decide if what I'm doing is relevant. My main concern is one of the subplots involving the love interest, in which we hear a lot about his past, but I think this will slow things down and might be a story in itself.

Oh, I don’t know. I'll have to sit in a dark, cold room and have a think.

xx