We're still short-staffed at the care home, so I have to work most days. It's an easy job in some ways. The residents of the care home are nice and the rest of the staff are straightforward to work with (mostly). I'm quite tired though. A majority of the shifts I've been doing are late ones, which I prefer, but I'm still having to do the odd morning shift, and I think it's the mixing of the shifts through the week, that make me so tired. Plus somewhere in the week I have to make time to write and draw the Super-Sam and John-of-the-Night cartoon strip for Forbidden Planet.
The strip often frustrates me, because I don't feel I have the time in order to draw it as well as I would like. And of course, being who I am, I'm never happy with the quality of the work anyway. I'm often surprised when other cartoonists I know tell me that there's little wrong with the quality of the drawing in the strip, and why am I moaning about it? Perhaps they're right?
Very high winds in England at the moment. I'm sitting here typing and looking out across the valley to the distant moors. The shabby post-industrial town is laid out before me like a giant ash tray. The local news is stuffed full of reports of crime. Last week a man was murdered, kicked to death by a group of teens, outside the postal sorting office which I walk past each day when I go to work.
I hope these will be collected someday!
Hmm, damn it, what don't we have moors in America?