You call this a supercomputer??!

Computer's kaput.

Computer is in the shop.

Computer is lucky I'm not kicking it repeatedly in the USB port.

Now be good until I get back, you hear?

In the meantime, muse on the slogan I saw emblazoned across a passing White Van.

"Who's Van is This!!!"

Bizarrely, it was actually the lack of a question mark that first gave me chills. The mangling of "Whose" took a little longer to filter through. The un-marked question begs the answer:-

I do'nt no and I do'nt caer?"


PS - my car is also kaput. Something playing silly buggers in the Electronic Engine Management System. Today is not a day for things electrical.

PPS - ever notice how when your computer breaks down, you suddenly have to fight the intense urge to buy a new one? Husband keeps mentioning our zero balance on the credit card, and how much I've always wanted a laptop and docking system at home. No. NO! *hits Husband on the nose with rolled up newspaper* Dang, I just remembered it's tax deductible.

PPPS - Mac users are not allowed to say, smugly, "my computer never breaks down." I know where you live, you know.

PPPPS - It was Husband's birthday yesterday, and it's mine in April, so we're treating ourselves this weekend and popping off to York and the Royal Armouries in Leeds. So even if the computer's a quick fixer, I won't be back online for a good while.

Ahhhhhhhh.....

Why is Green so Shy?

It's odd, isn't it? Green is the colour of Go. Red means stop, danger.

So why are there so many words that mean red, and so few usable ones that mean green?

Think about it. Say you're describing a pool of blood – it could be crimson, vermillion, scarlet, claret, burgundy...

Now say you're describing new grass. It's... green. Light green. It's not pistachio or jade, lime or couleur de corpse. It's possibly emerald. But it's certainly not olive.

Meanwhile, our pool of (now congealing) blood is ruby, wine and ruddy, carmine and cardinal. It may even be flushed cherry.

Our grass is still... Green. It's distinctly un-chartreuse-like, and I'd struggle to call it malachite. It's not beryl. Beryl is an old woman in a nylon pinny and a knitted hat.

Is it pea? It peeing well isn't.

Bah. I live in England's Green and Pleasant Land, and when spring springs, there just aren't the words to describe the new grass, the bursting hawthorn, the budding alders and willows, the sharp spires of daffodil leaves and the soft moss.

There's just not enough Green to describe the Green.

'Snow Joke!

IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING!!!

please let it lie... please let it lie... please let it lie....

My New Trick

I have a new Trick! I've long struggled with resting when I need to, when there's so much I want to do... It's especially hard when I have a day off and want a lie-in. Now, we're not talking about student level lie-ins, I hasten to add. Even dozing till 8am would be good. But inevitably I'm half awake at 7am and immediately thinking that I ought to be doing something.

So what's my new trick?

Watch closely now... I get up when I wake up. I do some chores or some writing. But THEN... I go back to bed.

Oh, bliss! I take a book and maybe a slice of toast. I acquire a cat or two. And I feel that I have permission to lounge. I am wallowing in the luxury of rest-time earned. Fabulous.

Then, when I get up again around lunchtime, it actually feels like I've somehow already spent a day, when actually there are hours left to fill with fruitful and fun things.

I recommend it.

Spring

Loreth was talking about spring being on the way in her neck of the woods. It's not quite with us here.

A couple of weeks ago, I was down in Shropshire, visiting Mum and Dad. They have spring - the blackthorn blossom is out, misting the hedges in white froth. The hawthorn is about to burst into vibrant green leaf. The daffodils are out, and the crocuses are gleaming like amethyst teardrops in shady spots.

Nearly two hundred miles farther north, though, it's really still winter, and I'm impatient for the change of seasons. The hints are there - the fields are about to change their tone, from a brownish, washed out green to the bright emerald of newly growing grass, and there are a few daffodils bursting forth.

But I want the hawthorn to break bud, and the other bulbs to bloom.

Come on spring. I've missed you.

RTB

Well lookee there. I have a post up at Romancing the Blog today.

Love is...

... cake.


There. Part of my Valentine's gift to Husband, a special meal involving Beef Wellington (a smidge too rare and therefore not completely photogenic!) and Victoria Sponge.

The residential was lovely, thank you! Chief memories are sitting in a tent by candlelight, while the darkened woods outside dripped with rain, reflecting on the day, and making trifle from leftovers, served in a saucepan. Excellent.

Oh, and we watched Gosford Park last night. Sela will punch the air when she reads this - I finally get Clive Owen. Yup. NOW I understand.

But I'm still not going to look at him in King Arthur more than I have to. So there.

Misc Weekly Catchup

The Wardrobe Rides Again
Brother would like to point out (in reference to our Valentine's Day activities) that things Husband and I might do for each other that come under the 'gutter mind' heading are indeed still practical and useful. However, if Husband continues to point at discarded items of clothing and growl awfully, "Put that in your new wardrobe!" when I am stripping for him, all such activity may well cease.

The Navel on the Middle of Nowhere
On Thurs I'm off on a team residential. The venue is rather remote. We've had three sets of maps and directions, none of which give instructions if you're travelling from the north. I am travelling from the north. One map shows a vast expanse of forest, three hamlets and a number of wriggling single-track roads, but does not mark the venue... I should be back on Friday night. On the other hand, I might never be seen again. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it...

Let them Scoff Cake
There is a cake conspiracy afoot. Everywhere I go, there's gratuitous free cake. Ordinarily, this would be a good thing. But I really want to lose some more weight pronto, and I'm not very good at resisting temptation.

To Do
I haven't posted my To Do List update this week. Please don't make me post my To Do List update this week. I'm holding on to the idea that I can catchup at the weekend. I may even clean the bathroom then, too. If I'm lucky.

Patience, Patience
Many people told me that the time between sale and publication date would fly past. It's not flying quickly enough! Waaaah! I'm so impatient, it seems like decades away. Especially with exciting things happening at Medallion Press on an almost daily basis.

See you at the weekend!

Wardrobe - Sleeps Four

Last night I dreamed about my new wardrobe.

This isn't as wierd as it sounds. No, wait. It IS as wierd as it sounds, but there are mitigating circumstances.

Every year, for Valentine's Day, Husband and I do stuff for each other (get your minds out of the gutters, now). Practical, useful stuff. Last year he dug the garden for me. This year he converted our old airing cupboard into a wardrobe for me.

Now, for all you US readers, you need to be aware that UK-ers rarely have large closet space. Usually there's just a freestanding wardrobe, or a fitted bedroom suite with hanging space for clothes. My old wardrobe was... well, insufficient to my needs. My new one is, to me, ENORMOUS.

I wish we'd taken before pictures, but we didn't, so I'll have to describe it for you.

Imagine a large, tall cupboard, spacious enough to stand inside, if it wasn't for the fact that it's piled to the ceiling with boxes. There's my wedding dress box in there, and Husband's famed Scalectrix set. There's boxes of bar towels (don't ask), un-used pictures, old boots, unwanted blankets and stacks of old pillows.

Now, take all that... stuff out, and see the rough-cut shelving, with traces of cement and plaster from a past life, still on the splintered wood. See the gappy, dusty floorboards, with the big hole where the new pipework came through. See the crumbling horsehair plaster and the cracked ceiling.

Husband has plastered, filled, sanded, painted, floored, carpeted and fixed countless shelves and hooks and things.

And now...





Ain't it purdy?



It has all these lovely, clever shelves, too, right up to the ceiling.

And last night I dreamed about it.

In my dream, I was remarking to Husband that if we were desperate, we could always use it as a spare room. Because it had a double bed (on the left, headboard to the back wall) and a set of bunk beds in it. "It sleeps four," I said.

I love how my lovely large wardrobe became even more massive in my subconscious.

Cover Story

There's a really fascinating bit on the Medallion Press website at the moment about cover art. You'll need to click on 'Editor's Corner'.

They're showing some of the covers that never made it on to a book, and talking about why. Go see!