The post without a title

This was a very warm day - despite the clouds.
Downderry, Cornwall.

I am feeling summery today. The sun is shining, it's the school half-term holiday, and I'm lovely and warm because the heating is on.

Yes, you've spotted the problem - it isn't summer. It's still the middle of winter. The roofs are frosty, and if I actually opened the back door I'd be greeted with an icy blast.

Plymouth Hoe

So, to make myself feel better, I delved into my archives and found some previous summery pictures!

Almost certainly Dawlish

What are your plans for the week? Are you desperate for a change in the season? Are your summer dresses/t-shirts mocking you from your wardrobe? Are you planing to cover yourself in fake tan to kid yourself it's summer really?*

*ahem! Not that I'm doing that, of course!

Dear Diary...

So, this week has been a great week! Do you ever get weeks like that?

On Monday and Tuesday, I rewrote a story and submitted it while Hubby pulled up the hallway carpet and broke my vacuum cleaner - and bought me a new one.

On Wednesday, I met up with my sister for her belated birthday lunch. Great food, a walk along Plymouth Hoe watching the waves crash across the road. Unfortunately, I was wearing a skirt, which needed to be held down because of the gusty wind! I can't explain - without sounding very sarcastic - how much I love the wind.

We walked to the Barbican, I took my sister's picture on the Mayflower Steps (not shown, because I haven't asked her), and went to The Merchant's House - one of the oldest buildings in Plymouth, now a museum. (I don't remember it being on a slant, it might just have been me! I'd had lunch, remember, along with half a bottle of wine!)

At the moment it's got a great Plymouth Blitz display, and we spent ages working out where our grandparents were living. (They got bombed out of three houses, apparently). The Blitz in Plymouth is not so well-known as some of the others around the country - because, if I remember correctly, the Government decided to keep it quiet for propaganda reasons, and so Plymouth didn't get as much help as other cities - but we had 50-something raids over the course of a couple of years and at least 50% of the city was completely destroyed. Old houses, like The Merchant's House are very rare in Plymouth.

Kyra's on the left,
I'm on the right... lol

On Thursday, I met the amazing Kyra Lennon. I've never met another author before, and it was so cool because through our blogs we know all the same people, and could talk about how great you guys are! 

Once again, I walked along a windy seafront and saw lots of trains! We had lunch, we walked, we talked, we had drinks... In short we spent five hours talking, and it really didn't seem that long. And Kyra offered to be my new - and very first - critique partner. I've avoided them in the past, because I'm not overly convinced about my own critiquing talents, but I'm learning lots from Kyra!


So, that was my week. How was yours? How was the weather for you?

Lucky 7 meme... and some other stuff

Caitin at All About Growing Up and Becoming a Famous Author tagged me in this meme, which I've been following around bloggerland and really enjoying. I love the title of Caitin's blog - it reminds me of all the dreams I had as a child.

Here are the rules:

1. Go to page 77 of your current MS.
2. Go to line 7.
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they're written. No cheating.
4. Tag 7 authors.
5. Let them know.


I'm currently working on a collection of novellas, so I put them all together to figure out which one was page 77.

He edges forward. My breath is shallow, constricted. My face is warm. Why did he have to bring this up? Why couldn’t we just go off into the sunset, happily ever after? In years to come, once we’d settled down and had five children and a dog and a farmhouse in Yorkshire, he could turn round and say, I know it was you.

I move closer and bow my head. My tears are real. They fall down my face in single file. Murray reaches to touch my shoulder. I can’t think straight.

“Did you do it?” he asks hesitantly, barely audible. He draws deep, slow breaths.

This excerpt is quite near the end of the second story. It's lucky I didn't have to paste a page later - it would have given away the ending!

I'm going to cheat slightly, and not tag anyone. I know this is naughty, and that if no one passed the tag on, there wouldn't be a game. But I've read so many, that I know a lot of people have already done this. And I hate missing anyone out of the fun. So, if you want to play, consider yourself tagged. And you're welcome to call me a cheat!

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And now for the other stuff. I rely on email notifications to keep me returning to blogs I've commented on, but I've noticed that on the pop-up comments box that a lot of blogs use, the option to be emailed has disappeared. I just wanted to say, officially - because this has been bothering me for a few days - that I'm not ignoring you. I'd love to know if you replied to my comment, I just haven't figured out a way to remember which blogs I commented on!

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Even as I type, I'm not sure if I want to do this, but here's one of the pictures from my recent photo shoot, which I mentioned in my last post. I'd prefer not to have any comments about it, because I really don't think I come out well. This is the picture Hubby thinks is the nicest.

I had hoped to have my photo taken next to Smeaton's Tower, but workmen were putting the scaffolding up  for its annual clean. Perhaps that's why the day felt so wrong - the image I had in mind wasn't possible.

Anyway... this is Smeaton's Tower...