No, not together - steady, people! - don't believe all you read in the papers about the Surrey set - per-lease!
I have at last started a major sex scene in The Bones of Summer - when Paul & Craig are in Devon (hurrah!) - and got so carried away that I'd done another 1000 words before I knew it. Taking me up to the grand total of 13,000, so don't wait up, eh. Still have more of the sex scene to go, plus I need to get them through the day's traumas before they actually get to the evening - but, heck, I decided to tackle the hot stuff today as it's Sunday and hell I deserve it. I can do crime and family dramas tomorrow - ideal for a Monday really.
I also managed to get my bookmark to stay upright on its side on the dining-room table today, while I was having breakfast, and was so excited by this miraculous piece of engineering that I had to call Lord H in to admire my skill. I'm not sure he was that impressed, to be honest, but he did his best in the marital support stakes. And while he was there, we had some interesting discussions about what it really means to put something on "in a low oven" and whether, if you raise the oven up on blocks, it will then be a "high oven" and take a shorter time to cook. Ah well, as you can see, Godalming is still an intellectual hot-spot in the western world ...
Ooh, and the Pink Champagne blog has been updated to include the latest Waterstone's review - so do pop in and have a look. Thanks for doing that, Sue!
This afternoon, we've been strutting our glad rags at a 50th birthday party for a work colleague, Colin - the weather being kind, we spent most of it in his garden getting over the social shame of being the first ones to arrive. Lordy, but I'm just so "Essex" and uncool that I have to be there to get to the bar before anyone else. We were also the first to leave (neither of us being great party-stayers, no matter how pleasant the people), so will probably have no friends at all by next week. Just call me Billy No-Mates.
And I also must admit to my eternal shame that I've had to give up entirely on Khaled Hosseini's "The Kite Runner". Yes, I know it's no doubt a literary masterpiece and everyone I know has been telling me I'd love it - but ... umm ... I hated it. Sorry. I got to the end of Chapter Three and, as far as I could tell, the story hadn't really started yet. Though the author had kindly told us - several times - that a story would be happening and it would change everything for the main character. There also seemed to be way too much telling and very little showing. When I got to Chapter Four and he was still telling me about his father and when he'd been born, I actually lost the will to live and knew I could take no more of it. Life's too short for this kind of narrative, I fear. At least in my opinion. So sorry again to those I might have upset ...
Tonight, I must ring Mother, and then we're planning an evening in front of the TV, watching our DVD of "Casino Royale", which will be our first time, so don't spoil the plot! I suspect I will freeze-frame several times that glorious shot of Daniel Craig rising out of the water in his speedos like Adonis from the waves (if Adonis had ever risen from the waves, that is ...), and run the gauntlet of Lord H's objections. Heck, it's worth it, tee hee!
This week's haiku is:
A grey heron floats lazily
over silent heads.
Herons again, I know - I'm obviously developing a heron fetish. Sigh ...
Today's nice things:
1. Getting a big sex scene started for The Bones of Summer
2. Colin's 50th.
3. Casino Royale!
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice