Back to the village after Oxford jaunt to research for the JA. How do other people do research? I wandered about a bit though I needed- really needed - to look at Logic Lane off The High but got so involved in that oo-oh that wasn't here six months ago where's that really strange shop that used to sell...? that I forgot to measure how wide Logic Lane was- immensely important point this - then had to go back later. Then there was the Turl Bar. Easy that one - just wait till
11am when it opened go in have drink(s) jot down current colour of walls, etc- except it didn't. Into the Mitre Hotel at the front- who owns it - to ask why? Nobody knows. My character HAS to go into the Turl Bar at lunchtime. Is it often closed now I keep asking every member of staff in the whole place. It isn't closed they all say. Yes it is! It's locked but with a sign saying it's open. But it's really closed! Is it the man who brings the coffee says, why's that then?
Go back to rented place to rethink chapter.
Walk along Southmoor Road, where I spent my seven week honeymoon in a bedsit on the first floor of No 80. From the pavement I note that the bay window which once was at least eight feet wide is now down to five and a half, maybe. In a local magazine I find Southmoor Road being described as 'wonderfully sinister' by a more successful writer than me.
There's nothing sinister about Southmoor Road, mate. Not like a bar where you're trying to set a scene but locks itself up everytime you try to go in it. Compared to that Southmoor Road's got a touch of Disneyland.
11am when it opened go in have drink(s) jot down current colour of walls, etc- except it didn't. Into the Mitre Hotel at the front- who owns it - to ask why? Nobody knows. My character HAS to go into the Turl Bar at lunchtime. Is it often closed now I keep asking every member of staff in the whole place. It isn't closed they all say. Yes it is! It's locked but with a sign saying it's open. But it's really closed! Is it the man who brings the coffee says, why's that then?
Go back to rented place to rethink chapter.
Walk along Southmoor Road, where I spent my seven week honeymoon in a bedsit on the first floor of No 80. From the pavement I note that the bay window which once was at least eight feet wide is now down to five and a half, maybe. In a local magazine I find Southmoor Road being described as 'wonderfully sinister' by a more successful writer than me.
There's nothing sinister about Southmoor Road, mate. Not like a bar where you're trying to set a scene but locks itself up everytime you try to go in it. Compared to that Southmoor Road's got a touch of Disneyland.
