Cue Cliff Richard and his red bus – the hols are here!

cliffThe summer hols are here and I couldn’t be happier. It has been a tough year this year – too many hours spent marking, planning, marking, admin and admin and admin. But, the sun is shining in merry old England and I am free for a few weeks to catch up on all the things I’ve been longing to do – and some stuff that I would have rather said ‘I’m still a little bit too busy to do that.’ But, I’ll take the rough with the smooth. I’m a trooper after all.

The first on my hit list of pleasant things to do is obviously write. Therefore, I’ve just finished my short story for Ylva’s Christmas anthology and am pleased to say that it has been accepted. What a relief! This one, unlike my last two, is more light hearted. It is Christmas after all. No doom and gloom at this seasonal time of the year from these wayward fingers. I was just too damned happy to be off work to write about sad stuff.

Seems strange to talk about Christmas when the temperature is 25 degrees – unless you live in a country that actually gets warm. I mean, in England, anything above freezing is commonly termed as a heatwave. This is usually followed by lots of pasty white skin on display, skin that rapidly becomes a distinctive lobster red, with the phrases turning from ‘Isn’t this great, Bob. No brollies today’ to ‘Oh … It’s just too hot. I can’t stand it. I wish it would rain so I could breathe.’ The smells of the BBQs and burnt offerings has declined over the last few days too, and probably the decrease of people attending A & E for third degree burns and / or salmonella poisoning from that dodgy sausage that only looked slightly pink inside its cremated casing.

Enough from me about the weather. I know I’m British and we can wax lyrical about its capriciousness until the cows come home, but I doubt that’s what you want to hear. I am still writing even though I’ve finished the Christmas story. I have finally cracked open the story I started eons ago and have had a read through. I’m quite pleased with what’s there and am wondering why I stopped writing it in the first place. Maybe I’ll be the only one who thinks it is any good, but hey – I am enjoying getting to grips with my muse (She is sat by the paddling pool at the moment whilst I write this – bikini on, and sipping a non-alcoholic beverage. Little minx).

So, with fingers uncrossed, as it makes it more difficult to write, I am hoping to crack this baby over the next few weeks. It will be me and her, her and me. We might not see eye to eye on everything, but I’m the one who masters the delete button. Unless the muse gets involved and then things could turn nasty. Again. Let’s hope she doesn’t get sunburned and I end up taking her to A & E to sit for hours with the spewers and moaners.

With that thought, I’d better go and get her. She’s looking a tad pink.

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