Welcome to my perfumed garden

...she warbled as she chugged down her second mug of coffee.

I was tucked up warm in bed by ten last night, but working on my novel till some godforsken hour, then got involved reading An Accidental Light which is not the sort of thing I'd normally pick off the shelf because the cover is so off-putting, it just screams (in a Tom Baker voice)  'this is a WOMANS book, my Lord!' - But I'm supposed to be reviewing it and it's actually rather good. A policeman accidentally runs-down and kills a young girl. The book follows everyone involved in the incident and how it changes their life and all the while, the ghost of the kid be hauntin' them. It's all first person but beautifully written and very easy to read and I do commend it most heartliy (but they really should change that awful cover). So it was the wee small hours before I turned out the light, only to get woken at some darke tyme of bleedin bloody Nora o' clock by a car sliding and crunching around in the road outside and running, running, running his engine and now -

Shattered. Is what I am. It's bloody Narnia out there today and somehow, we have to get into Chorley for bankly-business and shopping and that. And will our blessed council, to whom we pay most munificent goodly tithes each moon have gritted the village roads? Verily, I say, they will not.

What is it about t'Internets that maketh one to write like that? Verily, I know not that, neither. Tis a mystery.

Anyway. I needs must drink more coffee and complete my novelly works if we're to be away at the appointed hour. ::Looks at thick coating of ice on road. sighs deeply:: There had best be hot chocolate and almond croissants at the end of this, I'm telling you or there'll be trouble.