Welcome to my perfumed garden

is going great guns. I'm averaging 3 chapters a day (re-writes! I hasten to add!), just put #38 to bed, ten more to go. No more glaring errors have become apparent in this newer bit (yet ) and I reckon, so long as no more plot holes of the size you saw trams sticking out of during the war (this has happened before!) appear, and I can keep up this killer pace I can have the second draft finished by the end of the week. Then I start on the third and final draft.

I'm already perusing the agencies, thinking about the submission and I feel quite good about this story. I'm reading it and getting that odd creeping feeling in my digestive organs that says, this isn't actually half bad. See my delusions, see them scream...

Anyway, it's shaping up to be around 146,000 words when it's done which is, I reckon, getting on for 500 paperback pages which is quite a mighty tome as tomes go.

Whatever am I going to do with myself when it's done? ;o)

But hey, whatever because it's the WEEKEND! my babies! Let us laugh at the clouds, don bobbly purple bri-nylon Y-fronts and DANCE in the rain for the life, she is short and the rain, never ending so we might as well get used to it. ::waggles Yoda finger. nods sagely:: As for the fic, my writing partner has buggered off north of the border which means I can do what I like to those poor, poor boys for a full seven days! Bwahahahahahahahahahaha!!!

So, I'm listening to Radio Four and William Hague has just told the nation that he and Seb Coe used to hold 'bare chested wrestling sessions' when Bill was leader of the Op.

May I have the brain bleach and a commode now, please nurse, and bring the screens, I fear I may be some time...

ETA: spelling corrected!