Meanwhile, back at Hepworth Towers

I’ve kept to my resolution of not looking at the finished first draft of my screenplay for ten days (it should be a month but you know what I’m like) and I’ve been reading books about writing screenplays, where I came across this scary quote:

What writing for television really means is that the author is trying to tell a story to a single individual, who is not obliged to listen to it, who has not paid for his seat, whose attention must be well and firmly held if he is not going to switch off his set. -Sir Basil Bartlett

….which is why I realise that my episode 1 currently starts too slowly and must be fixed, in order to grab a viewer’s attention immediately. (Chrissie told me this last week but I was only half convinced.) Bother.

Also at Hepworth Towers, I’ve been prescribed some medicine that has an instruction list and a huge long list of possible side-effects which says I am not allowed to have milk 2 hours before or within 4 hours afterwards. AArrghhh. How am I expected to have my morning mug of Yorkshire tea? Black? What? I am right now drinking Earl Grey tea with lemon – nice enough in the afternoon, but not what a writer needs when she first wakes up.

Someone should check the wording on these instructions. Look at these two sentences:

"…in rare cases, depression or psychosis can progress to thoughts of suicide, attempted suicide or completed suicide. If this happens, stop taking Ciprofloxacin and contact your doctor immediately."

Lastly, the men from the council have been doing a wonderful job on the drains in the lane. Regular readers know how I love to clear the drain on the lane. Well, they have uncovered six drains I didn’t even know were there, such as this one:

I told them they were doing a fantastic job, and they said I did a good job with my wellies. We had a little mutual appreciation chat, but they didn’t mention the blue plaque I want behind my favourite drain saying “This drain is looked after by local author, Sue Hepworth.”