It's time for a rest - from scratching.

I’m free – for a week or so.

     After (hopefully) improving the cover, I’ve finally uploaded Spawn of Kongomato to Amazon. With twelve consecutive edits in two months the computer's about done for and it’s about as good as it’s ever going to get.

     That doesn’t mean I’ve given up on improving it but I think it’s just about right. Of course if someone buys it and threatens to firebomb England unless I change this or that, then I’ll definitely consider it. But for now, I’m taking a few days off.

     Not that I have much choice – I’m a walking zit, I’m the zittiest of zits. I barely have any skin left because I’ve been scratching all night. There’s a twenty foot high pile of skin next to the bed. Penicillin? Hah! Rubbish. When my doctor’s results come back in a week/year I’ll find out if I really do have Scarlet Fever. But knowing me it’ll be something so obscure no one’s ever heard of it before and they’ll have to quarantine the entire continent. Even my offspring’s cats are avoiding me, not that that’s a bad thing.

     So it’s time for a spot of painting before The Book of Pain. I’m looking forward to that, always providing I can see my keyboard through the opaque flurries of drifting skin.

     And yet again, I never got to use two really elegant phrases I’ve been dying to write. I’ve been saving them to slip in to a novel, casually showing the world just what a wordsmith I truly am. Maybe I’ll insert them into B/O/ P.

     Pretentious – moi?  Sûrement pas.