After my daughter's flat out refusal to read my new novel despite muttered threats of mutilation, I found someone else. Apparently his job is to sit reading books. He goes through at least one a day.
'Yeah. I'd love to.' Great I grinned. 'But not this week. I want to watch England getting thrashed at cricket.'
We english do so love to watch people being crushed - especially ourselves. So after the English national team - kings of the world just a few months ago, were utterly anihilated by the Pakistanis before tea on Friday afternoon, I was glad, but for another reason. He'll have it done by tomorrow, or so I thought.'
'I've lost it.'
Apparently, eviscerating workmates is frowned on in my place of work. We're a touchy lot, too.
He promises to find it by Monday.
On the upside, I spent another long afternoon in that graveyard. It has the approximate dimensions of southern California. Except that it wasn't so warm. Finished another story for my shorts collection.
I can't wait to get back to work tomorrow. I'll even accept that it's total trash provided someone reads it. Although I'd prefer that he fell to his knees offering me the soul of his first born for the privilege of reading the second instalment.