Wednesday, October 30, 2013
I'm quite fond of this section of dialogue from one of the ghost stories I'm working on but it's coming out for reasons of tone. But just because it's been deemed unsuitable for the book I see no reason not to inflict it upon you (both of you) here:
"Do you know The Writer's House? Out toward Freckingham? Have you heard of it?" The girl shook her head.
"I know it," said George without looking up from his newspaper.
"Do you know anything about who the writer was?"
"Can't recall the name, no. Before my time. Young fella, by all accounts. Wrote half a dozen books then went mad."
"Apparently. Proper doolally. Mad as a squid."
"And did ... sorry." It wasn't the most important thing right now but James couldn't leave it. "A squid?"
'Mad as a squid?'
'Why a squid?'
'I dunno. I've never really thought about it. It's just a saying, in't it?'
'Yeah." He scratched his head with the tame end of his ballpoint pen. "Isn't it?'
'Well, no. I don't think so.'
'Oh. What are you mad as, then?'
'A hatter. Or a March hare. Or maybe a box of frogs.'
'Not a squid?'
'No. Really not.
George looked up at James, nodding respectfully.
"Well," he said, "you live and learn."
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