To her ipod. The same whining phrase, over, and over, and over again.
I will need more gin to deal with this.
An account of life in a Northumbrian Croft
In November 2006 I was offered the chance to take on a three room cottage with no road, electricity, or mains water - the "Stone Caravan" of the title.
As I don't have an ounce of sense I said yes, and this is the journal of my attempt to live in the wood...
To her ipod. The same whining phrase, over, and over, and over again.
I will need more gin to deal with this.
Delish.
Does this have a name?
I don't believe for a second no one has done this before...
I'm scrambling to finish my application to the Bird's Eye/Scriptfactory
'She Writes' programme - a year of professional development for eight
women film writers.
And I've just waved off guests, John and Corry, who were my very first
(practically my *only*) guests at the Stone Caravan, back in 2007. They
arrived in June in the midst of records rains and flooding. Oh. And
the birth of my second niece (my sister only reproduces during National
Emergencies. It's a hobby of hers...)
This time around I could offer them a better, toad-free, bedroom in
London. Corry is enjoying the fruits of a bursary to finish her novel
about the the regency underworld, and is spending it on practical
research (eating venison at Rules, founded 1797, hot pot at Simpsons,
founded 1757 and staying in Beckford's Tower at Bath).
I wish I could join them in the eccentric old bugger's tower - but I
have the afore mentioned application to finish by Thursday.
Hey ho.