This week at work, I met a young man (early 20's) called Arthur, and an older guy (early 60's I'd say) named Brent.
I also met a Kevin (late 50's), who works with, and has a very similar surname to, Brent.
I think my confusion started because Arthur is, to me, an older person's name, and vice versa. In my mind, they swapped names. Arthur became Brent - same surname - while the real Brent looked like a Kevin and the real Kevin looked like an Arthur.

Worryingly, my mum also has name problems - for example Mr Dover-Wellman became Folkstone-Wellbeloved. I don't know if it started as a joke, but the name is now irreversible.

My maternal grandmother was even worse. She loathed the name Norman, which happens to be my step-dad's name, and simply refused to acknowledge that such a name existed, and re-Christened him John. 
There is, of course, no real point to this blag... just the random ramblings of an gently aging brain. Will I be as outright rude in my dotage? I think the elderly are allowed to be, it's one of the few perks of being old.
In keeping with the theme, I added a random photo of flowers from my garden - no connection at all, but they're very pretty.

That's something, isn't it? COLLIDER has reached the quarter finals of the Page Awards.
I am pleased, obviously... but I am also stressed! See, I submitted Collider to Valery Hoskins Agency, and got a good review but 'must try harder' note. Which isn't a complaint! A lovely woman pointed out areas I could improve, and I've already Blagged about my excitement that they'll re-read.
No, my stress is because VHA raised very valid points.
I've made changes to the script, it's with Raindance for review - and all this happened after I submitted to Page, which vexes me as the script isn't as good as it should be! 

Writing is clearly a balance of realising you will never be entirely happy with a script, but letting it go, whilst continuing to improve... but as a non-represented 'nobody' of a writer, competitions fill a vacuum of feedback and create goals. One has to keep submitting work for the illusion, sorry, hope of progression. BUT, I almost wish it hadn't made this far! Obviously, I'm now harbouring the faint hope someone will like it, as it is... but in my gut I know the re-write is better! 

After my brush with an interested agency, I've submitted my 'nearly acceptable' script to Raindance for a review, before sending it back for a second chance.
Now I have to sit back and wait a month before tackling Valerie Hoskins Agency for my second (and final) chance for representation.

To while away the time, I'm musing on my cat: He's loving, lazy, uncoordinated and overly friendly, er, really loving. Actually, really, embarrassingly, annoyingly desperate for human company. He shows signs of loyalty - he'll try for my knee first (or keyboard or book or whatever I'm doing that isn't about him), but quickly moves onto the next person if that fails.
In short - he's not a cat, more of a yo-yo.
A lap: up - often getting pushed off - and therefore down. 
A fence: up, misjudges it, and therefore rapidly down. 
He 'somehow' broke his leg last summer - never known a cat do that before, but doesn't surprise me. Of course I love him! But I am wondering if he'd fit in better somewhere else...

So, I'm wondering if I could - should, even - look for a disabled or old person to have him? He'd be in his element, sat on someone's knee all day. He gets so lonely when I'm out, "Yowls" the house down when I get home...they would surely love the devoted company?
But then I think that knowing him, he'd trip them up as he entwines around their legs (stairs are his speciality)... or jump onto their hot cup of tea, spilling it in their lap... and then I'd be responsible for making their lives worse.
What should I do with a cat like that?

No easy solution, but I think instead of mulling this over (oh, also trying to avoid an excruciating IT bit of work I have to do), I should start edits of Sequestration Manor. Draft 1 completed last week

I should be feeling very depressed today:
The Beeb didn't like Red Star - a cursory glance at the first 10 pages, then 'BAM', an email rejection. My mini-opera poem didn't work either (but that's no surprise). I did get an agent to read my work, and prepared to read more! I forwarded their response to my friend, with a mini-rant about how hard it is getting traction as a writer... only I hit reply instead of forward, so I suspect the agency will have added me to their SPAM filter, never to be read again.

BUT, I'm feeling cheerful! I've discovered a skin lotion from Avon - it's a pre-sun lotion of all things, but I'm using it post sun. 2 weeks back from my holidays and there are little bits peeling here and there, but I apply the magic lotion and it sticks it all back down. Slathering my skin in the stuff, with particular attention to peeling bits - magic skin glue!
I think it might also be a fake tan, as I seem to be getting browner, which is obviously completely unrelated to British Summer Time.
Secretly, I entertained ideas about tattooing my skin - if I could make tiny pin-pricks all over my legs, & apply the lotion like a dye, could I go permanently brown? Decided I'd end up speckled, so I'm glad I didn't share that idea with anyone.

Back in IT world for now, though I shall steal a few hours for writing at some point this week.