What the Dickens...

Each night, for the past weekend, I climb into bed with a copy of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. And I only get a few pages ahead.

It's not Dickens' fault. It's no one's really. The tasks I carry out during the day make me a doe eyed and wavy headed guy.

Today was my day off.

I had lunch with a writer / friend / coffee drinker*.

Then off to 2, 500 words for some money.

And some dinner which was wholesome but stuffing.

Life isn't bad. It's busy however.

Am starting to see why my parents watched television when they returned home from work. Maybe there's a chance to catch one Great Expectation adaptation on one channel. After all, if I can't get to Dickens, I'll rely on someone who can.

*I'll let Matt delete where applicable