(no subject)

Life is good, you know.

Why, I hear you ask?

Well, for a start, it's the holidays. I spent most of last night up reading the Frank Skinner autobiography, armed with Maltesers and a cup of tea. It was, actually, really good. Go. Read it. I may sound insane, and possibly I just find it funny cos he takes the piss out of Rowley Regis, which is where my Mum comes from. Anyhoo.

This morning, I lazed around until 11.00, grabbed Christmas presents together and stuck them in a bag, and now I'm here, since I realised that I don't need to be on the train until 1.35- I'll be at Central by 2.10 and can get on the 2.18 train. Looking forward to it- shipperkitten is making lasagne. And it's vegetarian. The joy this gives me is quite scary.

I checkd my story on scirbeoz, and I got two reviews and 35 hits. I jumped around a lot, especially when I found out that one of the reviews is from someone I really respect. It's rare I get a review from a bookverse fan.

And now Muse is playing live on Radio 1 as I write this last post before scurrying around to grab my last things and head up to Ormskirk to get the train (and junk food to bring.)

Ah. Bliss.

~Hathy_Col~