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[Previous entry: "Cramlington or Bust"] [Next entry: "Peel" ]


15 October 2004

There is, of course, always a price to be paid. These days, as often as not it's physical. I said I had a good time at the gig last night, and it's true. And the good people of Cramlington Library had arranged a lift home for me, which was kind; but that did mean waiting while they put all the chairs away, and it is of course impossible to stand around watching other people work as though one were of a different class of beings, so of course I too lugged big squishy chairs around, even while I thought "I should not be doing this."

And today of course my back is bad again, and my leg hurts quite severely in a sciatic way that I really thought we were over by now. The only good thing about being decrepit is the word itself (which bizarrely means noiseless, which is not my experience at all; I creak, I groan, I announce my decay all over).

However, the day’s good news is that Andy Cox of The Third Alternative wants to publish the story I was rescuing a few days back. I love Andy and all his works (as well as TTA, which is a sort of dark/horror/slipstream zine, he publishes Crimewave, which is the best crime zine in the country, and now Interzone, the best-and-only professional SF zine in the country. They're never less than interesting and they look lovely, they feel great in the fingers; it's just quality all the way). The story is called Going the Jerusalem Mile, and it's set in a cathedral of my imagination, which I hope to revisit in later pieces.

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© Chaz Brenchley 2004
Reproduced here by permission of Chaz Brenchley, who asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this work.