On a drought in writing and another stag do

We are still very much in the midst of wedding fever in this house. I spent some time today chopping up sheets with directions to the reception on them. Also, I have been reading my latest book (once again I can only rave incesently about it) Everything is Illuminated by Jonathon Safron Foer. It is one of those books which can make you laugh out loud, and then completely move you shortly afterwards, leaving you with no recollection of ever having laughed previously. It is the sort of book I would like to write.
Speaking of which, I have done very little writing recently, since the holiday club drama I wrote. I'm not sure why that is, either sheer laziness or a lack of ideas. Rightly or wrongly, I don't like to sit down and force myself to write, unless I actually having something I want to write. But I wonder if I'll actually come up with any ideas unless I write. It's a vicious cycle..although why such circles are always considered vicious, I have no idea. Vicious is a word that should be reserved for beasts like Exeter's psychopathic squirrels, which maliciously throw acorns at you, and quite probably laugh afterwards.
Saturday was Dave Salter's stag do. It was good fun, certainly. We went to the Great British Beer Festival at Earl's court, an event full of your average middle aged, cardigan wearing type bloke. And us, in all our shirt wearing, fresh faced, butter wouldn't melt, sweetness. There was even a brass band but, alas, no morris men.
We followed this up with a visit to the Fire Engine, a standard but nice restaurant next to Waterloo station. I recommend the duck. A particular highlight was joint best man Jon's speech which began, if I recall correctly, 'I am [pause] a very [pause] proud [pause] person...'. Bless him.