So here we are at the end of January, another month pissed away into the onrushing winds of merciless time. Time is such a dick sometimes, strutting around like it owns the place. Abstract concepts, eh? They’re bastards the lot of them. My futile struggles against the crushing inevitability of existence aside, it also means that it’s time to draw another instalment of the Pictonaut Challenge challenge to a close. So there’s a lining to this cloud. Whether it’s a lining of silver or a lining of a slightly less shitty brown on a wallowy, brown cloud of shit depends entirely on your point of view. Either way, you cannot begrudge my claim that there is, at the very least, some sort of lining.
So then, The Reliquary? What did you make of it?
It’s been a hectic old weekend. It feels like I’ve more or less been constantly on the move. First a series of train journeys before arriving in Essex, then a particularly long car journey to the midlands and a brief tangle with some slightly dodgy service station eggs. Then six hours or so of restless pacing around a living room, simply because sitting in one place for too long irks me in a seriously irrational manner. You’d think my knees would hate me for this, but they moan about everything and anything so it hardly makes a difference really. Another car journey followed, during which I manfully tried not to vomit, whether due to an encroaching case of motion sickness or the revenge of the aforementioned dodgy eggs I’m not sure. Then began an odyssey of rail replacement bus services and closed tubes lines before I finally, against all odds, found myself back home in Berkshire. And naturally at that point Banks’ Use of Weapons sank its claws into my arm like a particularly angry cat and demanded that I finish it. (Which I did, it is the third best book I’ve ever read, only narrowly loosing out on second place to The Lies of Locke Lamora) Needless to say not a lot of new writing has been done.