Wednesday 23 February 2012 – Today I find myself unravelling, threads of my existence having no purpose – or in a nutshell; and easier to say, I’m at a loose end. I have a quick walk around town, and come across a sign inside the window of an independent music shop; it’s an offer that’s really not an offer. the sign reads:
Sale: cassettes unplayed - £1 each or three for £3.
Despite my not being fond of sitting in the cinema, we decide to go and see the film adaptation of Susan Hill’s ghostly masterpiece, The Woman in Black. Daniel Radcliffe is pleasing in the role of Arthur Kipps, but not outstanding. There’s plenty of moments designed to make the viewer jump in their seat, and although the story has been tinkered around with, it’s not a bad adaptation; despite the sentimental drivel tagged on at the end – possibly to please the American audiences.
In the evening I take a stroll around the churchyard of the impressive church opposite the pub where ‘The Renegade Writers’ meet. I turn a dimly lit corner and come face to face with a cheery looking woman, dressed in an orange fleece; her shape making her look like a walking tangerine. I’m a little startled, but not as much as she is to find me poking around among the graves in the dark.
Mrs Tangerine tells me a little history behind the building of the church, and with a promise to come in the daytime and check out its interior I leave her for the writers’ group.