London Ice

I nearly got run over this evening on my way home. A car skidded close to me and missed the sidewalk by very little. Ice, ice baby. I decided it was safer to walk down Regent's Canal despite it being deserted and nobody being able to hear my screams if I fell through the canal's face. Was about to walk down a ramp leading to the canal when I slipped and saved my bones by holding on to a fence. Three teenagers nearby gave me pointers on where to step until I was safely on the path. Then, up ahead, two boys threw garbage onto the canal in the hope of cracking the surface. As I walked past them, the one in dreads told me matter-of-factly that they were going to commit suicide by jumping in the water.

Only one week left of work!

Yesterday, at our book club meeting, I decided to ask The Playwright if she knew anyone who wrote for EastEnders (it's one of my New Year resolutions to get a job writing for a soap). She laughed and said she'd actually written a few episodes for them ages ago ("during Tiffany's time") but got sacked because they didn't like her episodes. She then said the best way to get in soaps was to attend the competitive Writers Academy, though I'd definitely need at least one proven play, film, TV or radio show under my belt. No pressure then.