Riverside Writers met last night and we had two new people join us, which is always nice. Last month’s writing project was to create a poem or short story with the title of The Killing Tale, and all but one person had produced work for that.
We were joined by John Gorman of the Wirral Academy of Arts, which has just been granted charitable status. He was able to tell us that the public performance (by professional actors) of submitted work for Wirral Writers Inc has been postponed until April 2008, in order to combine this event with another literary festival and so make promotion more effective.
The bad news is that the Hallowe’en ghost tour has also been postponed until next year, because apparently I’m the only writer who’s produced any work for it! What happened to everyone else?!! Ah well, c’est la vive… I’ll use my work elsewhere in the meantime.
It looks like there’s a storm blowing in for this evening. I’m having to keep an eye out for raindrops while I’m typing this, as I’ve a line of washing outside. I ought to give some thought to tonight’s dinner, too, as Richard’s going to a Fish concert at the Pacific Road Arts Theatre in Birkenhead, which is a very nice venue, actually. But his friend Lee will be here around 6pm, so we’ll need to have dinner early.
Actually, Lee and Lynn have just come back from Portugal, which they absolutely loved. The place was spotlessly clean and the people were very friendly, and the food was great, they said. They waited ¾ of an hour for a bus to take them to the next village. Only later did they realise they could have reached the village by walking along the beach for fifteen minutes!
They brought me a gorgeous shawl back. It’s red and goldy-brown, in a paisley pattern, with silky tassels. I wasn’t expecting a gift at all, so that was a lovely surprise.
My niece has survived her first week in university student halls. She's already got herself a part-time job, which is excellent news. She was here yesterday, when Emily taught her how to play tug-o-war with a rubber duck. Emily has developed a sound strategy for enrolling people in her game. She holds the wobbly duck by its head and sprints up to her intended playmate, then cracks them round the ankles with the toy duck.
I am now an Ambassador for the Liverpool 08 Capital of Culture celebrations. That sounds rather grand, doesn't it! What it means in practise is that I get to wear a little oblong enamel badge and to participate in a very minor spot of publicity, a state of affairs which is of absolutely no interest whatsoever to Emily, who has come into season for the first time and who has been avidly attempting to share her affections with anything within range.
Ygraine is not amused. Neither is Saffron, who has taken up semi-permanent residence on one of hubby's old jumpers which lines her basket, located at dog-proof height on top of a cupboard.
Actually, she has rather fallen in love with hubby's old jumper. It's the kind of garment which had gone slightly weird in the wash but refuses to wear out; the sort of Sunday gardening gear which would induce apoplexy in Trinny and Susanna, but which has become the centre of our contented moggy's world.
Jazzy, also known as The Lodger, has barely noticed the puppy's enthusiastic goings-on. We have two bells on our cherubic-faced predator, but she's still a mass-murderer of all things winged or hopping. I do wish she'd direct her attentions to the huge mosquitoes which we've been plagued with lately. Each evening is spent with arms impersonating a windmill as these loudly-buzzing bugs zoom in for a chomp.