Life’s been rather boring lately. All I seem to do is work: if it’s not the novel, it’s polishing a guide for the Tourist Office or – horror of horrors – housework.
But last night I went to a belated San Martin party. They promised me that some of the chestnuts had maggots, but I only found one. It wasn’t a particularly exciting party, but the company was good and the magician was great. He was showing the kids (and me!) how to do some of the more simple tricks.
And the novel’s up to 68,555 words.
Is that disappointed you only found one maggot, I want more meat? š
I just think you should get what you’re promised, you know?
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