I took my little delete key, and wiped out a thousand. Words. Beautifully crafted by me. Sigh. If only I had a mentor. Never mind! A local Writing Circle has called. They want me. I'm going along, sweaty manuscript in hand. As soon as I can get out of drinks with K. Although K promised to read my manuscript too. Do I want the opinion of strange writers? Or K's opinion? Bearing in mind I know K's hidden agenda. Actually, it's not that hidden. But might be more fun. And the boys are away for a week.
Heard Josie's boyfriend crying (sobbing) again last night. I thought he'd left her. And I thought good! Run boy run. Walk away while you still can. Bringing the dogs back from the park I met him, all his stuff in a black rubbish bag. And I kind of smiled at him, and thought good. He's getting away. But now it seems he went back.
Better get on - bed sheets need changing. The Toowowah left biscuit crumbs and little chocolate smudges. Probably saving them for a midnight feast. Don't want anyone to think I'm some kind of slut with nothing better to do but munch cookies in bed.
Oh and that Val - she's still got vertigo. Made me give her a lift up to the village. And then she was sick in my car. See what happens when you do favours for people? No good deed goes unpunished.
Wake up 8.30ish. Decadence. Tea biscuits and dogs in bed. I have to get up. I need baccy. The Toowowah who normally just doesn't do mornings wants to come. Damn. I can't leave her outside the shop. In spite of what my sons say I know she is a highly desirable valuable animal. Check to see what neighbours are home. Phone Val. Answerphone.
Me: I know you're home Val, I can see your car. Get up you lazy cow - answer your phone.
Just to be sure she's got the message, I call her mobile. No answer. Decide to give up smoking.
Ten minutes later, my phone rings. Its Val. She's apparently broken a couple of ribs, and suffering from vertigo. Yeah. Right. She really needs to lay off the juice. I tell her to ring me if she needs anything and put the phone down quickly.
Put the Toowowah in a rucksack, the rucksake in the bike basket, and pedal over to the corner shop. If anyone asks, she is not a dog. She is a guffin. The Collie stays outside to guard the wheels.
Luckily - there is a man in a suit, Atoll is obviously trying to impress him. He glares at me, but can't say anything, not without drawing the man's attention to the Toowowah. Rose serves me with a dirty look.
I'm thinking of getting a tame doctor to swear blind I'm a hopeless agrophobic and need the dog to enable me to sallie forth.
Home again. Now what - housework or polish the novel?
A blog all to myself. Today I took the youngest back to school. The tide was out, and we walked on the sands for almost an hour, racing the dogs up and down, in and out the sea. White horses break miles out from shore, and I wonder again about Lyonnesse, and Atlantis. We checked the giant interactive sundial and it's already eight, so time for school. I leave him to his work experience.
Got home and the eldest had already left - away for the week in Snowdonia. A whole five days with only the dogs for company. God is my neighbour envious. Isn't it strange when you can do whatever you want? And you don't know what you want to do? I know. Set the alarm really early and treat myself to a couple of hours cycling. Because it don't matter if I get home and just crash.
Separate names with a comma.