Spoiling Alert
Diary of an Author: 24-30 March 2025
24 March 2025:
Last week I made the mistake of watching television. As a Serious Literary Author I am against all forms of screen-based entertainment, but I thought it might at least provide some inspiration for a short story or sonnet. To my surprise, however, I soon became utterly engrossed in the series I had chosen, and found myself watching multiple consecutive episodes every evening instead of writing. I also became extremely sensitive to plot details about episodes I had not yet seen, or, as I believe these are known online, ‘spoilings’. I was asked to leave my favourite cafe when two ladies on the table beside mine started excitedly discussing the latest episode, prompting me to stand and repeatedly shout at them, ‘No spoilings!’ Before long, my fear of spoilings began to creep into my real life. I grew terrified of finding out what was going to happen to me beyond the present day, and anything that referenced the future — conversations about plans, messages about meetings, letters about bills — would cause me to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears and scream, ‘Spoiling alert!’ It was at this point that I realised I had a problem, and vowed never to watch television again.
26 March 2025:
Today I decided to book a night away. It has been a long time since I last treated myself to a Serious Literary Holiday (SLH), and I deserve a break after working extremely hard on a sonnet this month. After scanning a list of UK towns in search of one I have not yet visited, I settled on Reading. The name alone was enough to convince me that this was the most literary town in the country, if not the world. (Indeed, surely the only way a town could be more perfect for a writer than Reading would be if it was called Writing!) I plan to spend the afternoon walking and musing among rolling hills and babbling brooks, and the evening sipping ale in a cosy tavern filled with pipe smoking patrons, reciting poems and folk songs together. I am on the train now, with Reading the next stop. I assume the landscape will transform any moment now.
27 March 2025:
I write these words from a Travelodge in Reading. The town has sadly fallen short of my expectations. From the moment I left the train station it became immediately clear that this was not a Serious Literary Town (SLT). Rather than lush, green landscapes, I was greeted by grey tarmac, concrete and building works. I approached a builder and asked if he could recommend somewhere to muse, and he pointed me towards The Oracle Shopping Centre. Unfortunately, it was less than ideal. I found it extremely difficult to think of ideas for poems whilst being assaulted by the sights and sounds of the shopping centre. At one point I did manage to think of a strong rhyming couplet, but I was quickly distracted by an altercation outside Sweaty Betty. In an attempt to escape the din, I sought refuge in the Apple store, where I was immediately accosted by employee and talked into purchasing a pair of AirPods Max. By now evening was approaching, so I decided to abandon my musings and search for a tavern. As luck would have it, there was one inside the shopping centre, called ‘Wetherspoons’. I walked inside, wished the barman good morrow, and asked for a steak and a flagon of ale. He said if I wanted food I needed to order “via the app”. When I had finally managed to order my food an hour later, I decided to try striking up a conversation with a fellow patron. I couldn’t see anybody smoking a pipe, but there was a man standing at a fruit machine smoking what I believe is called a ‘vape’. I wished him good morrow, and asked if he would like to recite a folk song or poem. He told me to go away, and that he had a girlfriend. As I returned to my table, my steak arrived. It was quite good, except for the fact that it was frozen in the middle.
30 March 2025:
Today a friend said she was looking for a poem to be read at her wedding, and asked if I had any recommendations. As a Serious Literary Author, I have written many love poems over the years, so I sent her one of my own:
the greatest thing
you'll ever learn
isto love
and be loved in return
that certain types of turtle
can breathe through their anus
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Ye be a bit of a wit. To whit. Hit it. I enjoyed your reflections. Thanks.
I was happy to read that you spent my birthday in Reading and disappointed that the town was SLLG (Seriously Lacking Literary Greatness)