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I spent November burning the midnight oil to produce a timeless work of fiction for NaNoWriMo.  Every night I cussed and glared at the blank screen on the computer; every night I swore if I just got through it I would never agree to something so stupid again.  50,000 words painfully emerged onto the screen, and I anticipated the bliss of not having to do it any more, like carry a heavy rucksack or wear high heeled shoes.   Perversely, though, I now find I actually miss it, so I’m settting myself a goal of 500 words every day, without fail, forever and ever.   Okay – I’ve got the determination, all I need now is an idea…

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(and I’m not talking about my flabby belly!)  I have been reading Daphne  du Maurier’s The Birds and other Stories, so when a stone smashed the  skylight window above our shower I naturally assumed a bird had dropped it. (What else?)  Then I got to thinking, what if all the wee birds in the area (attracted by my new feeder)  flew through the hole and started attacking me while I was in the shower?  Then I realised… that was TWO Hitchcock films at once!!! 

I’m not attaching a photo to this blog, you’ll be relieved to know.

Look at the mud!

He’s 17, he’s handsome, and he’s partial to a wee bit of grass.   He lives somewhere between here and Mull – Callander or Crianlarich, I can’t remember which – and he has to stand out in a field even when it’s raining.  Awww!

It keeps my knees warm while I'm knitting

… after a few days off.  It’s a lovely morning, I’m having croissants, strawberries and coffee for breakfast, and I’m still managing to find the cloud around the silver lining.   Talking of silver, I haven’t done much silverwork recently, but I have been knitting. 

I have had a lovely week, though.  Three days on Mull (two of them raining), one visit from my sister, one visit with my sister to an information session on life coaching, and a visit to a friend in Edinburgh.  We visited a wool shop,  a hat shop (wow!) and an Italian cafe-bar.  I could make visiting Edinburgh a full-time job.

Went to the Balmoral for afternoon tea.  I opted for the Darjeeling, and a (small) glass of Bollinger, and here is a picture of the cakes we got.  At first I didn’t think it looked much, but we managed to brng home a box of cakes we couldn’t eat.  I wasn’t too sure about the cinnamon scone – just a plain scone would have been preferable.  There was someone playing the harp (I’ve never heard “Happy birthday to you” on the harp before) and when he clocked off, someone came in to play the grand piano.  I looked around for Miss Marple, but she must have been away solving a murder somewhere else. 

Quick guide to the selection: sandwiches, scones, shortbread, Dundee cake, tiffin, cream slices and fruit tarts.

A silver Byzantine chain

…. and I’m blowing the cobwebs off my National Trust card.  I think I’ll visit  Falkland Palace this afternoon.  I heard a radio programme that said the Man in Black himself,  Johnny Cash, had a strong connection with Falkland.  Wonder if he had a scone in Kynd Kittock’s Kitchen.  I’ll need to get some more repairs done before setting off this afternoon.  It’s like a jewellery hospital here.

for special suppers

I need a cup of tea when I get into work

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