la_marquise

‘Men can be challenging. But we will have each other, my dear, whatever happens.’

Finally I'm back writing, after the excursions and excitements of the last few weeks. 1120 new words today. Aude is beginning to discover that her ex-fiance's mother is not quite sane, and Jehan is being strangely remote.

That puts me on... let me go and count... 19,744 words, which is behind, but I still have some time available.

High winds have brought down one of the local rowan trees, which is a shame. That particular one seemed to be ailing -- it was less leafy and less happy than the others, but all the same, I mourn it. The beeches and other rowans, plane trees and purple-sprouting broccoli trees¹ are all fine, thankfully, as are our garden trees (one snowy mespil, one apple, one weeping cherry, two greengage and a small damson).

And I have done Official stuff for ye agent, and tried and failed to fit a new wiper blade to the car (mutters darkly about designs that require strong fingers) and done laundry, and read for next week's Milford workshop and all and all been fairly virtuous today. It's cool and crisp, I can see leaves and bright rowan berries from my window, the cats are behaving, the marquis is over his cold and life is feeling pretty good.

Skirt of the day: denim. I have to go and attend to Caro winolj's rather, um, excitable, cat Ramses soon, and I need barriers against his (in)famous teeth and claws.

¹ They're narrow leaved ash trees. But before we found that out, we called them the p-s b trees, and it's stuck. And really, in their autumn foliage, that's what they look like.

Much better day today: 2120 new words. Chiachia is having far too much fun, and Liyan is about to indulge himself.




Skirt of the day: thunderstorm cotton. (It's a mixed and rather loud print in grey, mauve, grey-yellow and white. Thunderstorm is what it makes me think of.)

Well, today I'm made of fail: three hours has produced a measly 500 words and I just cannot concentrate. It's humid here and I feel like a rhinoceros has been dropped on me. So I'm calling it quits for the day and hoping to do better tomorrow.

Skirt of the day: long grey and black.

Another 2k yesterday, mainly in the form of a very barbed conversation. Aude is outraged, Jehan is cautious and the new character (who walked into the end of the first chapter in much the way Quenfrida walked into the first chapter of Living With Ghosts, fully-formed and unexpected) is enjoying himself rather too much. I suppose I should get one of those words-for-far thingies, really.
Yesterday's skirt was the black striped wrap. Today's is yet to be decided.

And I have a shiny: one of these, to be exact. My elderly kneeling chair finally collapsed and died after many years of service, and the marquis and I decided to replace it with something even more ergonomic and serious, in an attempt to reduce my shoulder pain issues. So far, I'm very pleased. It's very comfortable and easy to set up. I'm thinking of calling it Celleste.