yay!

Just finished the first draft of my novel 100K words, in time for the summer hols, too. Of course, there are bits that need monkeying around with. Especially the romance sub-plot. I'm just not good at romance - ask my husband. But, it's all there, on the Mac, on the cloud and printed out. Phew! Now I need to go to the gym and go to see Son being a splendid scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, so no time for  laurel-resting.
Now, just the small matter of tidying it up, finding and agent and selling it to a publisher...

ps

yes, I have just apologised to the kids for being so grumpy...

Dobby

I'm contemplating renaming myself Dobby. Because I am effectively just a house elf. Ten O'levels, four  A' levels, an honours degree and a masters, and how do I spend my days? Picking hair bobbles off the floor so they don't get tangled up in the hoover and thinking about the best way to hang an item of clothing on the line so that it won't need much ironing. Being well again sucks. There's just a backlog of housework and an extra couple of inches on my waistline from 72 hours of jam-on-toast-in-bed. Anyway, I can't sit here chatting all night, have you seen the size of the ironing pile? cheerio x

pineapple upside down cake with Julian Clary

I'm nearly better. Exciting, no? Well, it is for me, anyway (although I suspect that the large bottle of cider I've just quaffed may have something to do with my sudden feelings of wellbeing). I spent most of  the day in bed, again, although I wasn't utterly unproductive, because I wrote all about one character having the final showdown with her mother and also getting killed - nooo, just when she's finally about to get everything she's ever dreamt of, oh the irony). I had a break for chicken soup and lunch with 'Gino & Mel', who were making pineapple upside down cake with Julian Clary, which was the highlight of my sickbed day (I'm contemplating putting Gino & Mel into my fantasy street. Obviously Kirsty & Phil will live on the street, as well as Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall, and probably Katherine Tate, too, so I might find room for Gino & Mel, but they will have to be further down the far end somewhere). Anyway, I felt well enough to walk to school to pick the kids up, take them all to the sailing club this evening and even mop the kitchen floor...by golly, I feel like a veritable Boudicca! I have fought the wierd summer virus thing and triumphed! My white blood cells are strong, they are fiesty, and they are full of french cider, too...in fact, I'm feeling so good that I may even have another bottle (oh, stop it, it's Friday night). Chin chin xxx

being ill is boring

So very bored of feeling ill now. I felt rubbish all day yesterday, but battled through my cheery lessons on 'Dorset Life' (students were listening for gist, listening for specific information, listening to the teacher doing her comedy 'yokel' accent and pretending to find her funny, etc.). Next week I've decided to do a lesson on 'Neighbours', and yes, I have chosen it mainly because then I get to play the 'Neighbours' theme tune and talk about Scott and Charlene's wedding. But anyway, the point is, I taught all day and felt utterly rubbish by the end of it all, which necessitated lots of brufen and tea and toast on the sofa (yes, the fasting day went out of the window) and no housework and I thought that by giving myself a night off I'd feel better today, but no. I still feel pants. Twin 1 was feeling ill too, today, so she was off school, so I couldn't have a morning of tea and toast in front of Phil & Holly, because Twin 1's need for Scooby Doo took precedence. I just had to go back to bed. I got up for lunch (chicken soup, natch) and then went back to bed until school pick up time (and by then Twin 1 was better, and was out on the trampoline in a ball dress and wooly tights, which she assured me was a perfect way to convalesce). After school, I made the kids watch a DVD with me and banished other children from the house (I don't like other people's children when I'm ill - do you?). It was 'We bought a zoo'. I cried, Son played on his tablet most of the way through, and the Twins got bored at the emotional bits, and put on their ball dresses to go out on the trampoline. I continued to blub, alone on the sofa, wishing Hubby was there for tea and sympathy (although in reality, if he were here, he'd be calling me a malingering tart by now, because I'm not allowed to be ill for more than twenty four hours).
I know, I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I'm going to stop bleating on and make myself some tea and toast to have in front of the telly now. And you know what, the washing up can blooming well wait until tomorrow!
Maudlin-ly yours xxx

nameless

I know, I ought to be doing yoga or meditation or cleaning the bathroom or something useful. But I feel like I've been ignoring you recently, so I'm taking time to write. Although it is nearly 10.30 so I can only give you a couple of moments because I do actually want to go to bed. Today was a good day. I wasn't fasting, so I ate lots of homemade  toast and jam and sushi and putanesca sauce and chocolate milkshake and hot chocolate and...blimey, when I write it all down I realise why I need to do fasting days twice a week. I wrote another chapter of the book, took delivery of a cabin bed and had half the street round the house for a play date after school (didn't really mind, except  when the pesky girls stole all the sugar-free gum I'd been saving for my fasting day tomorrow, the minxes). Nameless-the-rat got abandoned on the sofa whilst Son went off on his bike with the new boy next door. She was staring with her red eyes and wiggling her large furry bottom as if she was about to contemplate jumping off the sofa and escaping, but she didn't fool me. She would never be bothered to actually escape; she's just not that sort of rat. If she was a woman, she'd be a baggy-football-shirt and open tub of Ben & Jerry's type of girl, if you know what I mean. Anyway, she's back in her cage now, snoring happily, after another big meal. Okay, well, bedtime now, and two two-hour ESOL lessons and a mere five hundred calories to look forward to tomorrow...

Sorry, ten days have suddenly zipped by and it's almost July. What's been going on? Well, my lovely boss had a word with the Russian student, and in the last lesson she was as charming as you fancy. Not only did she smile and engage with the class, she told me I looked like Princess Kate. In response,  I told her that she was my new best friend. Obviously, we were both lying, but hey.

What else? Twins got to sing Abba songs at a 'music festival' at a local school last weekend: lots of people desperately trying to have a good time despite the rain, wind, and overpriced beverages (much like other music festivals, I guess - apart from Glastonbury, which has suddenly become a national treasure, like a sort of festival version of Barbara Windsor).

Son has been practising hard for his role in the school play. He's going to be the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. He gets to sing 'If I only had a brain'  - casting perhaps a little ironic. Anyway, all three of them are watching the 1939 version, again, and I'm letting them get on with it even though it's past bedtime and it's a Sunday night...oh no, Twin 2 has just been in and berated me for not remembering to do her speech therapy session. Well, I'm not doing it now. No siree, Bob.

Hubby has gone to Iceland. Almost. He's skippering a yacht there for a couple of weeks, but we won't see him until the end of July. He was getting a bit glum about it, mainly because it'll be all cold and cloudy up there, apparently - not all that much different to here - and I can't help thinking what did he expect? It's the arctic blooming circle for goodness sakes! In any case, the trip was entirely his choice so I have no sympathy (and I shall have even less sympathy when he goes back to the Caribbean next year - unless we all get presents, in which case I may have a small change of heart).

Right, I really ought to do my motherly duty and send the kids to bed. It's a school day tomorrow, you know! xxx