Hypocrisy, addiction and excuses.

I hope it’s the thought that counts, because I’ve had so many ideas for blog posts since I last actually wrote one.

I had my first experience with a fact checker this week. My article was drawn from several conflicting sources, so I wasn’t surprised by the historical queries, but I thought I was good at grammar.At least, I am offended by other people’s errors. Shouldn’t that mean something? I comfort myself with the fact I knew it was ‘guerilla’ and not ‘gorilla’ warfare.

Before that, I went to my first writer’s retreat. It wasn’t what I expected; I didn’t write, and it was stimulating rather than restful, but I loved it. Could become addicted. It would be cheaper and less unhealthy than either plastic surgery or drugs.

Looking ahead to this weekend, I think I’m heading for a personal worst in the Bournemouth half marathon. Allow me to put my excuses in now: when I’ve got to sleep on time, I’ve been woken early by my husband getting the train; my days have been filled with one sort of writing or another; I’ve not had the childcare to get out as often as I’d like and the picture below is all the washing I’ve done since Monday.





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