I had a lovely chat with Paul and Linda McCartney in my dream last night. Very down to earth and happy to talk about their careers.I wanted to say to Paul that I was glad his third marriage was working out, but thought that might be insensitive to Linda.
It didn’t strike me that for Paul to be married three times that that meant Linda shouldn’t be there. But I was glad to remember to ask him if he ever wondered what would have happened if he’d chosen to stay at his proper job after the Beatles were in the doldrums after Hamburg. I wish I could remember what he said.
I’ve been proof reading my book for the last couple of days. It’s strange going back to it after a few months away. It doesn’t feel like I wrote it. In a good way. I was really enjoying reading it and thinking how funny and interesting it was and couldn’t believe that I had actually done it. But then I also can’t believe that all that stuff happened to me. Maybe I’m just very bad at remembering things that have more or less just happened to me, I put a lot of heart into the book and it’s honest and open and it made me cry a few times. I can’t wait for people to get a chance to read this one.
Doing the book club has made me realise how many brilliant books are out there and how many talented writers, so I know it’s very hard for a book to break through, so I am expecting nothing at all, but I hope this one will help anyone going through something similar and also encourage people to check themselves out and go to the GP if they’re concerned. Sharing my story has already led to at least two people getting themselves checked and discovering they were in the same boat as me. So I am out there saving lives. What I am doing is probably more important than the medical staff who will deal with the problem. I’m not saying I am the new Jesus.
In a book I am reading now, The Man Who Tasted Words, by Guy Leschziner, the author discusses how talking is a kind of telepathy. We manage to project our thoughts into another person’s brain by way of sound waves. But books are an even more magical bit of telepathy. The ideas get into other people’s brains without us even being in the same room or country or even if the author has been dead for thousands of years. What insane magic that is. I suppose we can do the same with recorded sound or telephones, so maybe it’s not so different, but I had never thought of it as telepathy before. But it is.
I found a few errors (monoball had been corrected to moonball, which I actually almost left, because that’s quite a beautiful description) and I found a few bits where the writing was inelegant. I am sure I missed plenty. You can’t help skimming a bit and there was quite a substantial error where a bit of scripted dialogue had the same character saying every line, that I only spotted about halfway through, because with something like that you tend to just read the speeches and not the character names.
Anyway, a rare bit of pride in myself, both for writing a fucking book and for getting through 2021 with a sense of humour, a sense of what was important and some personal triumphs.
Back to being a total fuck up in 2022 though.
We were playing restaurants tonight. Phoebe and me were selecting our food and Ernie was the waiter. He was a bit weird all the way through and Phoebe and I were laughing at his incorrect waitering. When he finally took our order he suddenly broke off to say "I need to do a poo" and ran off to the loo. We both laughed, of course, but Phoebe was tickled by the idea of that happening mid-order in a proper restaurant. We imagined it and laughed together. It was very funny but I also enjoyed my daughter's sense of humour reaching that level of sophistication. Albeit with a poo joke, but those never stop being funny. To be fair, that could be a comedy character in a TV sketch show (probably quite a bad one or at least one that I had written) who needed a poo at inappropriate times but was honest enough to let everyone know whey they were leaving.