Monday
Today, I went into a darkened, soundproofed, and windowless room measuring four to five feet in square. There, I had nothing but me and a book for company for three consecutive days. This would be a lifetimes ambition fulfilled were it not for the fact the book is one I wrote and I am in this foam-lined oubliette in order to read it aloud while a man in the next room along records it for publishing-in-audiobook-form purposes.
It is not a lifelong dream, but a nightmare that has been realized. It is not something writers want to hear out loud. This is not enough for the inner critic. Your inner critic will gorge on your soul and vomit for many days, weeks, and months.
Except for sociopaths, fools, and children, no one wants to hear their voices echoed back to them. This happens when you make a mistake, and you have to rewind and fix it so that it matches the pitch at the original time you spoke.
It's my first novel, "Are We Having Fun Yet?", which I have just published. Reading out the things you make up is interestingly more humiliating than actually articulating facts. The responsibility seems heavier.
However, I know that a soundproofed, windowless box for an introverted person doesn't often come along so I will enjoy it while I can.
Tuesday
Today, I awoke in my cell to discover that Edinburgh Castle was seized. Oh no! I was shocked. Was this base treachery? I thought so, but it didn't last long. I knew that something was wrong.
It was so. Twenty protesters were chanting the word "stomped". It is not. Twenty protestors had entered the castle and demanded tickets. They began yelling at the castle that belonged to them, demanding their power back, and restoring the rule and law. One ticketless Braveheart said that we can't allow everyone to die under the fraudulent legislation and government tyranny. They shouted that they were seizing it under section 60 of Magna Carta.
This section is popular with a particular type of activist, who like to challenge the monarch and seek redress. They ignore the fact that these powers were granted only to 25 barons (to enforce charter), and were removed within one year. They were never incorporated into English legal. The Edinburgh protesters may have stopped to think about the fact that none of Magna Carta's sections has ever been applied to Scotland since King John signed it in 1215 before the Act of Union. Perhaps next time, they will be able to get together with the people who protested the BBC in Edinburgh a few weeks back outside the building it sold in 2013. Then they might hire a factchecker for an entire hour before heading off. Even the most well-planned plans can't stop the gang from agley.
Wednesday
Scientists have successfully bred pluripotent human stem cell brain organoids into optic cups that can respond to light. This is the first time scientists have done so. The clever scientists have created little brains using stem cells, which then developed little eyes. This breakthrough will enable better research into embryo and congenital eye diseases, targeted drugs, transplantation therapies, and other related topics.
This is good news. Particularly as stories continue to mount about Dominic Raab's 40,000-mile holiday in Crete during Kabul's fall, and when he was too busy to make the call necessary to ensure the safety of Afghan interpreters, who had previously worked for the British military, and are now in danger from the Taliban. This suggests that we have several possible replacements for our foreign secretary in the lab. Each one was likely to have greater intelligence and vision that the incumbent.
Thursday
New research has shown that men are three times less fertile at 50 than they were before. This is yet another evidence to support the myth that Charlie Chaplin or Mick Jagger are wrong about men's irreducible reproductive abilities over time.
As I do with any challenge to The Peen, I look forward the next few days. I like the bat signal (not in bat form) that is sent to male writers of certain types and vintages. The desperate articles and assertions about the study being flawed, unlucky subjects, or that all sperm samples were processed by a feminist are all very enjoyable. All this with the constant drumbeat of Not me! My great beast still has gametes that can swim the Manchester Ship Canal, and still knock twins into it at the end. This is not me! It's my best source of entertainment and I want to thank scientists for making it possible.
Friday
After having raised a family in London for six decades, Mum will be heading to Preston to visit her siblings and brothers (or real family, as I suspect she sees it).
She takes the entire house and puts it in two bags.
How can he? He will not let us leave him. What if Dad falls? Then I'll get up.
He is a much better cook than us so we don't need to do any of that. Because he isn't able to move enough to cause a mess, there is no need to tidy him up. It is only once a week, and Mums taught him how to use the toilet without actually using it. (And yes, once this information is retrieved from Mums, I will publish it in a small hardback book for women all over the world whose partners believe that the Toilet Fairy is responsible for removing their leftovers from the bowl like a fecal stonemason). It will be the ultimate loo guide.
Let's just say goodbye, Dad.
He says, "Yes," gratefully. It would be wonderful. He might even get three days in a soundproof room for Christmas.
