Welcome to my perfumed garden

Well, it's nearly the weekend, which is usually of little importance to me, since I work from home and make my own hours, but I do feel this Friday through Sunday deserves particular consideration.

1. It's Mark's birthday today.

2. My submission to my agent is all done; 1st 2 chapters, a synopsis and the sales pitch/aka begging letter; all parcelled up and on its way to Soho.

2. I have finished my fic. Not just any old fic. This is a fic I've been writing for Moonridge 2006. At just under 30,000 words, it's not even all that long by my standards but it's really taken it out of me; quite the hardest thing I've ever written. But it's done, at last. I always get iffy at this point; scared that, when I start to read it through, it'll be utter pirate's-balls. Hey ho... steeling myself as we speak. T'will be beta'd and winging its way to Mariojoe, she with the patience of a saint, by the day's end

So I'm all tanked for a relaxing couple of days with a kitchen lightly filled with fresh bagels, my favourite cream cheese, very yummy looking salad stuff, a temptingly crusty baguette, Tesco's organic English goat's cheese, three types of olives and a handsome looking Merlot.

In other news, the Day's Big Headline is, of course, that Alan Johnstone has finally emerged safe and well in a video on t'internet. Now, this is very, very strange; why now, after so long? I honestly assumed he was dead and had been for months, otherwise, why not parade him for the cameras and make a point of the fact you've kidnapped him? Very, very strange indeed...

Anyway, Mark's birthday cake smells done.... Exits, following nose