Home Alone

I am only just getting back to a normal tempo, having had the Son & Heir and the Proverbial Daughter both visiting over the weekend – without their respective retinues.
Good to see them both.

M agreed some time back to provide evidence in a domestic plumbing problem that went wrong at the home of a cousin. It (so we thought) was arranged for Wednesday and he was going to stay the night with his cousin tomorrow. He went off on the train mid morning, to sort out ventilation problems at a restaurant. He was suitably attired for getting covered in grease. Turns out that the court case is tomorrow and the cousin was expecting him this afternoon. When I rang M with the bad news, he hadn’t even reached the restaurant. So he carried on, dumped his equipment there, and took the next train home, to collect his respectable clothing – the suit that hardly ever sees the light of day – and overnight gear. And the file. And the tablets. The Jackie chauffeur and valet service was on active duty, until he finally left again for another train at about 3.00 p.m.

So I’m on my own today, and as always have plenty of things to tempt me away from the things I ought to do. And now it’s evening, I notice, that, when I’m on my own, I have more lights on and eat more chocolate.

By courtesy of Virtual Tales (http://www.virtualtales.com/), I have registered for an on-line Writing Conference. It’s almost as complicated as finding one’s way around in the flesh at some large university or similar. Anyway, I’ve managed to register and put a link to my website there. I shall visit again tomorrow, and see if anyone’s got anything to say.

More excitement on Sunday, when Goldenford hold another launch party for Irene's book, Sold to the Lady with the Lime Green Lap-top. Take a look at Irene's site for more details, www.myspace.com/ireneblack or go to Goldenford: www.goldenford.co.uk

I’ve been back to my novel, Tainted Tree, which I’m working my way through – not to make major changes, but to look for errant commas, etc. and bits of narrative or dialogue that scream out, ‘I’m wrong.’ I’ve covered another chapter and am one third of the way through. I’m also trying to finish a short story I started three or four months ago. Unusually, it seems to fit in a current Writers’ News competition – No smoke without fire – though it started life as ‘It’s an ill wind …’ In between, it nearly made it to the Anonymous letter competition. Never has one of my stories had so many chances. No all I’ve got to do is write another 600 words to finish it.