There is a God. After yesterday’s shoot without a photographer horror, a file of fantastic pictures turned up via e-mail this morning, from the poor young man I accosted after spotting that he had a camera.
They were great pictures. Perfect for the local papers and the angel who took them said he didn’t want any money. His words were ‘Consider them a gift.’
My skin and bacon are well and truly saved thanks to this lovely young man who appeared as if from nowhere when I most needed him. Don’t you just love it when that happens? Tonight, I will stroke my gratitude stone and be grateful for this small miracle.
It is 7pm and I’m in bed. I’m not ill. It’s BAD tomorrow and I have to be up at 5am. Plus, we have to hand the first 2,500 words of our novel in to the literary agents running the online course on Tuesday, so I need to get writing. I love writing in bed, it feels wonderfully decadent. Even better when I am troughing my way through bowls of popcorn, but I am going for grapes today in a bid to be a bit healthy.
It’s been a good day. Housework has been done, copy has been filed and I am almost done with the social media course. It has taken me SO much longer than I anticipated. It consists of 35 video tutorials, four PDF documents and three quizzes. I fear that any mid-lifer who takes it will be a pensioner by the time they finish. Still, it’s got to be a bargain for £50 hasn’t it?
The video footage of me is horrific. I cock my head like a drunken duck when I speak. Of course, in the course of everyday life I don’t notice, but on video, I look most peculiar.
In case you are wondering, still no sign of the £1 million, but once the novel homework is done and the course is online, I am going to compile my list of top 100 clients and make a pledge to contact at least 10 of them a week. That feels a bit scary, so it must be the right thing to do.
I am a lucky so and so. Badassery is my game. I’m a shiny millionaire. Tra la la la la.