It was raining as I walked to the pub. yes, for all the 47 minutes that I walked. I got dampened, but the most important of what I had with me, my printpublished work did not get wet. Phew indeed. I take it along in case I make any sales, and to be frank, I have made most of my sales through the poetry reading times.

It was my thirtieth public recital of poetry and...meh, the crowd was loud. And when that happens, I feel something like a burden. The crowds talk during the musicers, but with them, they have the advantage of being louder somehow. I'd wager it's disconcerting still, but they're better off with that than me.

Sigh.

Luckily, it didn't more than drip some on the walk home. And that was good news which allowed me to do my offline writing on the way back. Yes, thanks to my palm treo, I can write and walk at the same time. Yay me!

Yes, I have no qualms about writing as I walk. I just don't do it enough. I maybe should do it more. Hmm, that would mean another story right? I'm in an extended period of writing on any particular story but once a day.

Hmm, Walking Tales. Or some such thing, that's workable as a title. Yes, that's definitely a workable thing.

Time for me to go now. Next when? maybe tomorrow, certainly Tuesday, possibly Monday.


Charles Petrie