Right, brace yourselves people. Today sees a double-helping of me. Which either makes you very, very lucky or completely damned without redemption, but I'm choosing to see it as the former.
I was summoned to the blog of Choc Lit (those fragrant and special people I believe I may have mentioned, probably in CAPITAL LETTERS already), to give my viewpoint on the current state of my mind. Oh, come on, they did ask... I managed to produce what I consider to be a cogent and altogether enlightening window into my writing experience, and also a much lovelier photo than the one which is going to curse their author pages for many moon to come. Mostly because it's not entirely of me, but also features Dog Number One, who in aforementioned photo is staring at the ground with a somewhat rabid expression but still manages to look better than I do.
Anyway. Where was I? Oh yes, blogging. Now I find myself blogging about blogging, which is probably something recursive, and if anyone out there finds themself blogging about my blog about blogging then you will probably disappear up your own HTML, and don't expect us to come looking for you if you're not back by tea-time. So. Go and have a look at my Choc Lit blog (it's all right, now I've warned you about the picture you can make sure you're looking somewhere else when that scrolls past, but for the love of God, have an empty stomach when you open the page, or an old blanket to throw over the screen, or something). The other girls all have something interesting to say, and all I can do is to compare being published with the time a mouse ran up my trouser leg. They will probably never ask me again.
On a lighter note, I've just opened a box of chocolates that I was given for Mother's Day. And if you think that is odd, I've still got a box from Christmas, unopened! But I'm keeping those in case of emergency. You never know (as I have previously proved) when a mouse is going to run up your trousers and necessitate the opening of a large box of Thorntons.
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