Time on my hands

Well I’ve finished all the work for my current batch of clients and need to find some new ones for my writing service It’s Write For You. So if anyone out there needs some words producing either for personal reasons – like a new CV, LinkedIn profile or important speech – or for business purposes – like a key presentation, press release, some fresh website copy, sales material etc – then check out my website at http://www.itswriteforyou.co.uk, e-mail me at wordsfrompaul@gmail.com or get in touch via the numbers in the website. My best qualities – great with women, great with words and utterly modest.  Ha! What’s not to like?

If I don’t get swamped with approaches this week I’m going to have to write that synopsis for a new sitcom with my good mate C.

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Soundtracks

You’ll have to excuse me. I was out with old friends from BT days on Friday (we get together on an occasional basis having worked as a small project team during the Rugby World Cup in 1999) and although it was a low turn out – just C, P and me – I had a blast and one or two drinks. Then last night we had dinner and a lot more drinks at old friends J & D and lovely daughter A . I think we finished around 5am which is outrageous but we were having a laugh at a video D shot of my 40th birthday do, which I haven’t seen in 20+ years. I have to say we had some fab parties at our old place in Buckingham and this was a prime example. Seeing family and old friends 20 years younger dancing away to ZZ Top is a real hoot, especially after one or twenty glasses of wine.

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Oh the irony

Do you remember that song from Alanis Morissette where she sang about lots of things which touched her soul and after each example invited us to agree with her that ‘Isn’t it ironic?’. The thing was that none of the things she wrote about were actually ironic. Unfortunate perhaps and slightly annoying but sadly Alanis, not particularly paradoxical. So last night my wife C’s watching the final episode of a drama series that’s been gripping her and 7m other viewers, set in the bleak Yorkshire landscape around Halifax. Bleak’s a good word because that describes the plotline   which features a police officer, played excellently by Sarah Lancashire,  faced with issues of drug addiction, suicide (her own daughter), murder, kidnapping and extortion, rape, brutal violence, dysfunctional family relationships, desperation, decay, divorce, police incompetence and lots of rain. It’s relentlessly grim; in other words it’s just an other day in t’West Yerkshire. And the name of this series? Happy Valley. Ha! And C loved it and didn’t see the title as the least bit enigmatic. 40 years plus together and she’s still a delightful mystery to me. Women eh. Alanis give us a burst of that song again love…

Reet belting.

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Suits you

I was interested to see the images this week of the England team heading off to Miami, en route to the World Cup sporting their new official suits. I’m sure the lads were expecting to don something snazzy from Armani or Hugo Boss or Paul Smith at the very least. They’ve actually been issued with matching jacket and strides from the official supplier M&S’s Autograph collection. Ah well lads. Continue reading

It’s eclectic!

At the risk of being accused of watching too much daytime TV, another thought occurred to me watching Frasier this morning. Have you nerticed how televsion sets and props are often an important character element in great sitcoms? Well I have.

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Unseen characters

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My lovely wife C has discovered a new treat for me – titter ye not – it’s yoghurt. No not just any old yoghurt but a new brand from ‘The Collective Dairy’. Who? It sounds like some state-run farm in the People’s Democratic Republic of Wensleydale or some hippy dippy commune in the West country. In reality it’s probably a brand front for Nestle but I don’t care because it’s just deloverly, that is if you can find the stuff because it’s a bit of a hidden pleasure.  It comes in a variety of different flavours although to be honest I don’t much fancy the Russian Fudge which sounds like something Roman Abramovitch gets up to with his girlfriend (you can titter now dear readers).

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