So I’m no Tango champion, but I did well. The only problem is everyone who goes Tango dancing are a little (a lot) older than me and learn at, shall I say, a slightly different pace. It’s a good place for impatient people to practice. The other problem is the shortness of the men and lack of them. Dancing the Tango with a tiny woman just aint the same so I think I’ll be giving this class a miss.

Recently I had a bit of a ‘bleugh’ day creatively. I was heading home, dreading the sitting at a desk situation (how do people do it?!), when I passed Cardiff Castle. I cycle past it every time I go to town but I forget that you can sit in the grounds. So this is now my office. Thanks William the Conqueror. I do wish there was a roof and a big fire for those colder days ahead. Right now though I’m enjoying the blue cloudless ceiling, soaking up the rays while they’re still there. I don’t carry sun cream though, sorry dad. Standing on top of the Keep , you get a sense of the power they must have felt, safe behind the walls, looking out over the city and their subjects. I can’t help but think of Johnson and Trump and the thought of them stood on the Keep with their boring suits, poisonous words and ugly faces doesn’t sit well , so I push them off, with a long stick. I don’t want them to take me with them.

I often listen to music when I’m writing. Sometimes I need silence or find the comforting chitter chatter in a cafe is enough. Sat in the castle grounds I decided to put the Cardiff episode of ‘Great British Castles’ on Youtube. The sounds of swinging swords and cries of torture were a little distracting. I should have stuck to Spotify. As a dancer, music was obviously greatly inspiring. It could sometimes be the difference between moving like a slug on an elephant’s foot or moving like a flea on a Hawk’s wing (credit to Morgan for the flea), but I hadn’t realised just how much it could influence my writing.  Depending on the song playing, my writing can change from brutal honesty to fiction, verging on insanity. It can either make my mind flit around from random thought to random thought, or give me sharp focus where the words come steady and fast. Or it can just make me dance in my chair, whether at home, in a café or on a park bench (here I can mull over ideas and may happen across the sexy park ranger, excellent multi-tasking).  Listening to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack might make me confess something to you that could get me in trouble in my personal life.  Listening to romantic love songs might make me write something that I’d want to delete later. Listening to Sean Paul just makes me want to dance on the table. Movie soundtracks make me daydream (I’m usually galloping a horse along coastal cliffs, my long luscious curly movie locks glistening and even in slow motion with no makeup and after travelling for weeks, I look amazing). I may have enjoyed Pride and Prejudice a little too much as an eight year old.

Are there any writers reading this that have made playlists to help them express or enhance the mood of the project? I’ve started ‘unliking’ songs on my Spotify playlist which means I’m listening to the same songs over and over again. I wonder if I’ll start repeating myself?! The tunes might be re-wiring my brain so I’m on autopilot. Like my hand putting cookie after cookie unconsciously into my gob. Who knew writing a blog post every now and then was so dangerous.


Posted by:wardygoeswest

One thought on “Better late…?

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