10th of the 10th of the 10th

Somehow the months and days and years have aligned to give this quirky date. 10/10/10

The heavens have also enabled me to write my first poem.

No. I'm not going to share it with you. That would just be too painful (for you as well as for me). Something akin to Vogon poetry in The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe, but without the double chins.

To be fair, I'm surprised I can write anything after dropping into a cataplectic state following an email from our poetry tutor: 'For our first session please remember to bring along 6 copies of one of your poems.'

One of my poems?

Oh, you mean One of my many poems? Obviously.

Last time I wrote a poem was...er...twenty five years ago, or thereabouts. Poetry writing is what you do when you are in your teens. Why? Well because writing depressing prose for personal viewing is less humiliating than making an arse of yourself in front of that boy you fancy, the boy who you know wouldn't touch you with a bargepole if Clearasil actually worked and you were the last available date on planet earth.

And, it has to be said, writing teen-angst poetry is better for your health than self-harming. (Though if you write something resembling Vogon poetry, it may equate to the latter anyway).

Homework for this week: A short story with three 'episodes' (no more, no less).

Longest period spent timewasting this week: several hours today wondering if a suitcase can be a protagonist.

My latest in-class revelation: I am the only person in the universe who hasn't read 'Pride and Prejudice' (or perhaps the only one foolish enough to admit it).