With thepainters here, Little Miss Mayhem in such a state of distress and me relegated to downstairs in a nook to keep me out of the way, I am shameless reblogging (purloining) from bloggers I especially admire.
Not London Book Week ~ reflections on the book industry (part one)
I didn’t go to London Book Week.
I didn’t go to the Indie Fringe event, either, though I made half-hearted plans to go and meet friends. I wavered so long I missed the window of opportunity to get cheaper rail tickets that might have made the whole thing a little less harsh on the wallet. Then, on April Fool’s Day (of course) I yawned, stretched and forthwith popped my shoulder out. It popped back in again, leaving me with enough pain to warrant the Big Guns of pain control that mean I don’t dare leave the house for fear of wandering aimlessly into oncoming traffic, or of seeing giant scorpions in alleyways. If I stay home when I take them, I can at least ask family if what I am seeing is real and if it is, I…
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