So today has been really nice. I’ve been going over an old story called Change For A Set Of Shoes which is a weird short about a homeless centaur begging on the street. I’m planning on getting it in tip top shape so I can sell it to someone desperate or drunk enough to buy it. I think i’m also going to be played to create a screenplay, which is great because it’s something I haven’t done yet, which is as good a reason as any to do it.
Me and my partner Holly had a walk in the sunshine where we discussed all manner of strange little things such as “Why is there a minotaur mural over there again?” To which I said that Manchester was the alpha-testing zone for the mazes of ancient Greece, to which Holly reminded me that it wasn’t true. I didn’t like the tone, and demanded to know what sources she had to back up this information.
I started The Black House by Paul Theroux the other day and i’m almost finished, so that does suggest it’s at least interesting. Paul has managed to capture the essence of what it is to be a bickering aged english couple and use it to steer the reader off the beaten road and into dark forbidden territory. The story focuses on the self-involved absent-minded husband, who doesn’t seem to realise that his partner is struggling with life out in the countryside.
It’s a strange little book, not too long, and a little weird. I found it in a charity shop and decided to buy it due to the price (£1.50) and the strange cover, which I think is important when selecting a novel. I recommend this book, charity shops, and places with old dusty books in it, because you never know what you might find.