Bones, buttocks and song

Have spent this morning continuing the edit to The Bones of Summer. I've added in one of the scene additions and its aftermath that the report suggested and I think it's deepened it. So far so good. And hey, more words too, which is a bonus - I'm nothing if not a short novelist. The next move is to add in a key scene with Craig's father's church, but that'll take some thinking about so I may not tackle it today. In the edit, I've also read through one of the sex scenes, and even though The Literary Consultancy were happy with the sex writing, I think I might cut it back a little. I don't want to move too far from my plot for no reason. It's a difficult balance sometimes, but hey I'm not complaining!

This afternoon, Lord H and I are off to Glyndebourne again to see Eugene Onegin. We've seen it before and I remember enjoying it but I can't remember a thing about it now. But I think there's more plot than last week's opera, so that can only be a good thing. We're eating in again, as you can't trust the weather these days, but this time we've opted for the Middle and Over Wallop Restaurant. We never attempt the Nether Wallop. Hell, would you? Call Glyndebourne elitist claptrap and a dying art if you must, but it does have some fabulous restaurant names.

Ooh and the other excitement is that Terry Wogan is apparently attending Glyndebourne sometime this weekend. Please God let it be today! Then I can giggle, point and froth at the mouth, in my usual sophisticated fashion. I was all for taking our Terry Wogan books (yes, we do have them) and thrusting them under the great man's nose for signing if given half a chance but Lord H was aghast at the idea and went distinctly pale. Not very Glyndebourne, you know ... Here in the shires, we must appear as if seeing Sir Terry is something that happens every day. Then again, knowing my luck he'll be turning up on Sunday anyway so my cunning plan to skulk round the dark corners of the opera house and peer into the bushes will be in vain. Sigh.

The other excitement of today is that I've recharged my phone (well, you never know when you might break down ...) and found my first spam message ever on it. Gosh, I must finally have made it then! But I really don't think I'll be pressing the button to find out who wants to flirt with me as, if it's not Lord H (and it can't be as he hasn't encountered text yet), then I will be forced to bite their buttocks and run away. Which in essence is much like the mating rituals of the average Essex Girl, so there's a chance it might backfire. As it were.

Today's nice things:

1. The Bones edit
2. Glyndebourne
3. Thinking about Sir Terry.

Anne Brooke
Anne's Website
Goldenford Publishers