Thousands of bubbles twanging their explosive power into the space above what’s left of the sugary ocean.
Encircling aluminium providing a wall of death for the evil conveyer of the trickster of all mixers.
Almost at the end now, the surviving bubbles shimmy across the bottom and sound like beads or grains of rice being moved on a tray.
My advice would be go to bed on a glass of water instead!
Hello my friends! How does this wet-under-foot Saturday find you in your various forms of homestead?
These mature cheddar and marmite pinwheels (thrown together with ready-made pastry) I watched being created by a client last week. I had delivered some clean horse rugs and sat sipping a welcomed cup of tea while she described the guests due for her dinner party that evening.
It all starts with a Japanese piece of art.
🤣 Seriously, it’s easy. You spread marmite across rolled out pasty, smother with grated cheese ….
.. roll into a log and slice.
I don’t recommend using the tart tin. I’d simply run out of baking trays playing host to the first 48! They’ve stuck in the tart tin and I can’t serve them out on the farm walk today (but I can sit here and eat them while we chat).
Funny. I hated marmite for years. I quite like the salty kick now.
Anyway, no NaNoWriMo words these last couple days but family stuff has taken priority. Thinking about it every chance I get. Mmmmm .. just grabbing another. They’re a little addictive if you do like marmite!
Look what arrived from a company in Ireland today .. the cutest lip balm 🌺 Check this company out! Literary Lip Balms
I did have a bit of a breakthrough yesterday with a plot hole which has threatened to swallow up my (perceived to be .. by yours truly) finest scenes because the dates never worked.
I had a huge time-line issue. I needed my Male lead to be born on a certain date, and I’d decided I’d set the main part of the book in 1999, with a final chapter with midnight on December 31st. In Edinburgh 😱🥂 (I can’t wait for you to see that!!!)
Finally sorted a few things out in my mind driving around yesterday and I think tomorrow I can crack on with more typing 💫
Have a good weekend!
It’s great to meet other NaNo participants through the hashtag. Check this entertaining post and what a good idea .. maybe I should tell my in-laws and they can deliver pies!! 🤗
As most of you know by now, I regularly participate in the annual writing rumble known as NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I’m a rebel in that I usually scratch out as many short stories as I am able in those thirty days.
I participate every year because for 30 precious days, writing is the only thing I “have” to do.
My friends and family all know that November, in our house, is referred to “National Pot Pie Month,” so if you drop by expecting a hot meal from Grandma, it will probably emerge from the microwave in the form of a formerly frozen hockey puck.
I usually have my “winners’ certificate” by the day they become available, but I continue writing every day through the 30th and update my word count daily.
NaNoWriMo is a contest in the sense that if you write 50,000 words and have…
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Do you have ‘supper’?
My parents always talked about this pre-bedtime snack … consumed some hours after dinner, or tea, depending on where you come from.
It’s because of him that I wanted to read The Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway. It’s the book his character was reading in the cafe in the first Equaliser film.
A short interlude from the gorgeous and late Alan Rickman… yes, he was Professor Snape and The Sheriff of Nottingham, but if you’ve not watched him in Truly, Madly, Deeply then you haven’t lived.
Anyway, Denzel …
Man of the Woods and I went to watch the second Equaliser last week and I loved it (maybe I even mentioned it?). Thing is, he – Robert McCall, was reading another book from the so-called list his late wife had read. Except I cannot remember the name of it 😫 and I wish to read it (*goes off briefly to see if answer is on google*).
Talking of Roberts…. I appear to have started a novella. An erotic piece of fiction. That side of me made an appearance Saturday late morning and I decided not to fight it and made a start.
I woke up in the early hours of this morning and wrote solidly for a further two and a half hours and took the photo above just before I returned to bed at 7am.
This evening I’ve sat and typed more. Lots more and I took this photo.
I stopped for supper and the wordcount is now standing just short of 10,000. I’m not sure what this says about me 🙈 but the words just keep coming!
I did some research on a publisher who enjoys this sort of work and … well … we’ll never know will we, if we don’t have a go?
They require novellas of between 10,000 and 17,000 words.
If I can sleep on it tonight and create a satisfying climax to this piece of fiction which had not been planned nor existed before Saturday at 11:45, then I could potentially have a first draft by the end of tomorrow. How crazy is that?!
PS .. google is pretty cool.
A wonderful fellow blogger has cleverly located my missing text from yesterday and very kindly drawn my attention to it…. thank you so so much, you clever girl, K M Allen. 🥂
I have chosen to re-publish the post as I am proud of Man of the Woods’ long hours of work recently and had wanted to share that notion when I started typing yesterday!
Two to three more days should do it. Man of the Woods has harvested, in order:-
We are cutting spring oats today which leaves just the spring wheat – the final crop to ripen in the season.
This dry weather has been helpful as in we have not been sat for days with the combine in the barn waiting for summer showers to pass and crops to dry. But many farms across the country have suffered horrible fires due to sparks from combines inadvertently starting fires on tinder-dry straw.
I dare not speak too soon but we have escaped such tragic events on our farm, yet have watched black smoke billowing skyward on three or four days last month on various neighbouring agricultural land, all in different directions.
As father in law (71) takes one trailer load of oats back to the yard, our son (18) brings the second empty trailer back to the field – and I’ll film the unloading shortly. Man of the Woods has been treated today to a lunch of stars- from Starbucks (I know… I’m a hopeless farmer’s wife, but I was wrapping and repairing horse rugs all morning and oddly enough cannot be in a kitchen simultaneously.)
Luckily, he doesn’t mind what he eats – I buy Starbucks healthy options, of which there are many. We are all thinking low-sugar diets these days (can’t think why).
If we are really lucky, and the ground remains too hard to plough post-harvest, we might steal two or three nights away. My heart soared when he said “We can go to the coast, find an Airbnb and relax and read; you can take your writing stuff…”. What more show of support is there than that? I’m very lucky.
(Mind the pylon)
Just a couple words on mother who, two weeks after release from hospital, is injecting insulin four times a day (yeah, I’m impressed too) yet still getting readings of between 8 and 18 for sugar in her blood. She can’t not test because dad hovers over her in order that he can complete the results log they were given on release, for sharing with the diabetes clinic every Friday.
The NHS saved her life three weeks ago. Simple. Her sugars were 57 and her organs were shutting down. She believes ‘a higher being’ saved her, she told me through a cloud of smoke the other day as she lit a third cigarette in a forty minute visit.
“She’s becoming aggressive again, so all’s back to normal!” dad laughs but the nervous twitch and his nail-biting is no longer lost on me. He’s reverted to the man he was before she went in; the one who will not rock her boat. The one who tries to say she shouldn’t drink Tropicana orange juice, but who relents when she shouts at him that what’s life for if not to enjoy?
I take homemade meals in twice a week, walk the dog for them if she’s not been out and maintain something between a dignified silence and some gently delivered honesty if I feel she’s trying to pull the wool over my eyes regarding the sugar content of stewed red fruit under her crumble topping she managed to make with candarel.
A quick 24-hrs in the big smoke, a combine-dust-free day. A change of scene they say is as good as a rest, and I truly believe that to be the case.
I could wonder around London’s streets, paved with concrete, much more often than I do and before my daughter reaches that I’ve done London now, and I want to get off the treadmill stage, I’ll go up as often as can without outstaying my welcome (don’t worry; I have my eye on that aspect. Nothing worse than a over -bearing parent!).
The street artists who work in chalk, for the entertainment of us mere pedestrians in exchange for a pound or two, are so damn talented! I love Audrey. I love her look and her demeanour in Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Stunning and a too-early death at the age of 63.
A window display at Fortnum & Mason, at 181 Piccadilly makes for walking past an impossibility! Each window is a sight to behold.
As we idled our way towards Piccadilly Circus and the ultimate destination of Cineworld in Leicester Square for a girly viewing of the new Mamma Mia, luckily we had some time on our hands to pause whenever shop windows invited us to take a closer look.
Another beautiful shop is the TWG breakfast tea shop; oh my word! It was enough to make me want to whiz home and ditch the Yorkshire Tea box, scoop the dull boxes from the shelf and re-decorate the whole kitchen based on some of their box designs.
We oooh’d and aahh’d and then moved on out of the tea shop, for which you’d need a Barclays loan to buy a year’s supply of anything!
My daughter and I saw the stage show of Mumma Mia about 6 years ago, then subsequently the first film with Meryl Streep and Pierce Brosnan. I know many said he couldn’t sing. He sang well enough for the part imho, and does so again in this new film.
I’m reading a book right now about getting emotional punch into my fiction writing (hence you’ve noticed my few recent romantic offerings 💫 I’m practicing on you guys) and this film has all the emotional punch I could take. Seriously, I used the hem of my dress to wipe away tears because I had taken no tissues, the backs of my hands had black mascara streaks on them as we travelled back to daughter’s apartment and I’m sure fellow passengers turned away in sympathy at the sad woman with the swollen, bloodshot eyes who must have suffered some severe trauma to look like that 🙈
It was .. IS .. brilliant. Heartache, anguish, internal and external conflicts up the ying yang. The perfect example, and timely, of a romantic story delivering emotional punch.
(Oh, and a few ABBA songs thrown in! 😍 including at least three numbers specially written by Bjorn and Benny for this film 👌🏼)
I’m shattered. But I’m home. The combine is cutting and Man of the Woods wants me to dig up potatoes from the field for tea. Would you like to come with me while I do that?
Oooh look, here comes the boy with a load of oats to unload. Close your eyes or his dust will blow into them! (I know. Rubbish tool. I’m no gardner).
… and from that seed-potato, all these others grew…
I think boiled gently and smothered in melting butter, don’t you?
Now, THAT’S fresh 👌🏼
They are simmering, I’m going to have a nice cup of tea 🤗