Good with words

Fear... distractions.... the efforts of a self-employed writer to pay the mortgage.... all that jazz.

Friday, November 18, 2005


I love Fridays. Probably more than Saturdays. Same as I love the week before Christmas, probably more than Christmas itself. It's the promise on the horizon... the twinkle in your eye.

I am still wearing my three layers, but am sweating in a very unladylike way. It is either eye-poppingly hot (with the fan heater on) or teeth-grittingly cold (when it cuts out), and neither option is favourable.

But still, it's Friday! My veg box has just arrived! With another pumpkin! Now we have 4! And Halloween was about a year ago!

I am not entirely sure I like pumpkin any more. We have had pumpkin soup and pumpkin tart (don't ask - leftover invention) and roast pumpkin and pumpkin curry. It's the texture that makes me cringe - when it gets mushy in the middle. It makes me shiver, like velvet or cotton wool. Ew! (Oh, just the thought of cotton wool makes me want to cry.)

Aside from pumpkin overload, this week has been very productive. I finished with the toys and hampers (and the plump Santa, see below) so Thursday was Dead People day (the video wills website is well on its way) and Wednesday was Diamonds Day... now there's a job and a half. "Anna, our team is all men, so you choose the diamonds for the new range and oh, we need names too." Hurrah! Such a romantic job. This company considers Tiffany's to be their main competition, so you can imagine how wondrous the jewellery is.

Am not sure that the 'Vanity Cluster Studs' will sell, no matter how inventive I thought the name was. But never mind. I am married to a vain man and have no problem telling him. I would buy him the Vanity studs if he was a girl. Except I can't afford them.

How's Charlie? you ask. She is also having a VERY good week! Since the fateful night when Tabby met Steve, it hasn't graced our garden so Charlie is very much enjoying her free run. Terrorising Sam the Siamese (without actually touching him) and stalking the Fuschia bush. She has hardly been inside, even when the lawn was all white and frosty.


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