Got home from a weekend away today. Am a bit hungover and am beginning to wonder if my memory of a sophisticated evening of wine and sensible chat may be slightly inaccurate.
Have become addicted to Susanna Gregory's medieval murder mysteries. I like that within two to three pages she'll usually have killed off at least one character, no messing. It means I do not get bored reading about scenery.
I find books quite funny sometimes, because they are so centred around action, scene, dialogue etc that mundane things like morning showers, face washing, breakfast, lunch etc are rarely mentioned. Yet I can read an entire chapter telling me what the weather is like, and how beautiful the big blue sky is. The characters in books are clearly much more interesting than me as my life tends to follow a boring routine of get up, brush teeth, shower, eat breakfast, uni work, have lunch, uni work, dinner, gym, TV time and bed. This is why I struggle to write because half of the time I am eating food. This creates a twofold writers block: 1. because I don't want to write about food all the time, and 2. I can't write when I'm eating food. Also I'm living in the UK so there isn't often a big blue sky to speak of, although today it was a little bit blue, and yellow and white as well.
In other news, my sea monkeys have started having sex. I leave them unsupervised for one weekend and this is how they behave. Clearly they are not old enough to be trusted yet.
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