Well, I've now recorded my literary short story, The Drive Home, for Celtica Radio, and that should be broadcast in about a month's time so I'll keep you posted. The lovely Bill seemed happy with it and has asked me to record another one on Saturday evening via Skype. This time, I thought I'd go for something much quirkier and have chosen a rather jazzy story about the thrills and spills of life, love and desire in a dictionary. It's called Candy and Catharsis, and I've given it a couple of practice runs this morning. I'm hoping for the best, come the day.
I've at last started the editing process for the final part of my Gathandrian Trilogy, The Executioner's Cane, which I anticipate will take quite a while. But at least I've begun. That in itself feels like progress, though I fear there will be much to change about it. I'm also pleased to say that gay erotic short story, For One Night Only, gained a 5-star review at Goodreads - many thanks, Michele!
Meanwhile, I've completed the literary lesbian short story I was working on, The Gift of the Snow, and have begun the submission process for that one. Wish me luck. Heck, I always need it.
Across at Vulpes Libris, you can find my review of Harlan Coben's thriller, Caught. A very exciting book with some very interesting things to say about forgiveness, and I can definitely recommend it.
Here are the most recent meditation poems:
The gift is not
what we have
but how we use
in the giving.
when it needs
to be free
is to lose it
and true life
in the living.
We are at times
in the shadows
out of sight
I was much bamboozled by the charming historical elements (Temperance Society hymns, anyone??) in last night's episode of Midsomer Murders, not to mention the tradition of the menfolk putting on stag horns and plighting their troth with the womenfolk in the neighbouring village. Goodness me, not at all like the home life of our own dear Queen, I can assure you ... Or indeed anyone else I know. And I speak as a village-dweller, my dears, so you can rely on me. Still, the one good thing is that the new, terse and irritable Barnaby has finally (thank the Lord) stopped bullying poor Sergeant Jones, and actually appears to like him, phew. As do we all. It's a relief that the two main characters are now beginning to get on as that's a large part of the series, for me. I must also say that much as I love Warren Clarke with a deep and abiding regard, stag horns aren't actually his look. Not only that, but as I'm seeing him in Three Days in May at the Guildford Theatre tonight, playing Winston Churchill, I fear that I will not be able to get that image out of my head as the Great Man is taking us through the start of the war ... Yikes indeed. Though, having said that, if Winston had decided to put on stag horns and tackle the Third Reich dressed in this fashion, then perhaps the war would have been won far earlier ... There's one to ponder on for you.
Today's excitements have included the washing machine breaking down once more. Deep sigh. According to the code flashing on its display panel, it can't find any water, so I fear I must wait for K to return home and solve the mystery for me. Perhaps it's objecting in some way to last week's flood? When it had more water than I've ever seen produced by one machine in a minute ... So, we have yet to get the water table balance right in Elstead, it seems.
I've also had my flu jab so that should ensure I maintain my usual high standards of health throughout the winter, ho ho. And our third tree surgeon has arrived and taken details of our tree and hedge plight, and will give us a quote over the next few days. Ah decisions, decisions.
The Thoughtful Corner