Notes on a Spillage

Tonight I knocked an empty saucepan into the cat’s water bowl and the result was Lake fu*king Windermere in my kitchen. How can one little bowl of water create THAT much water?

Now, some three and half hours later as I sat all mellow and relaxed watching Question Time, sipping a large mug of Darjeeling tea and idly browsing the rather splendid barleyhut.com, I knocked said mug of tea and have spent the last fifteen minutes tending to a mini tsunami in my sitting room. I am relieved to report that no Macbooks were harmed during this disaster and that Darjeeling tea appears to have remarkable cleansing properties for oak floors.

Someone is sending me a sign. Someone is telling me to go to bed and avoid the bath at all costs.

Written Into a Corner

My two main characters have been stuck in the kitchen for almost four months now. I wrote them there and now I can’t write them out. It’s a nice kitchen but you wouldn’t want to spend a whole novel there. Especially since they drank the last of the Jack Daniels the night before and there’s nothing stronger than Darjeeling in the cupboard. I should be writing them out now, but here I am writing this instead. I am a bad person. OK, I’ll have a go.