Today the hedgehog visited a Roman town. To those of you in other parts of the world, this may or may not sound exciting, but in Yorkshire (the place of the hedgehog's present burrow), it's joost plain daft, as they say here. I'd like to say that it was the old Roman Town of Olicana, which it was, but it's now called Ilkley, which is a lot more prosaic.
There were no Roman soldiers marching up the streets, since I was about two thousand years too late, but once a year there is a Roman day, where people wear cardboard armour covered with tinfoil, and stonk about like a mass formation of wallies. Fortunately, this was not the Roman day, either.
Instead, Hedgehog and Hedgehogette visited several charity shops in succession, bought little or nothing, swithered about cuppas in a tearoom, did nothing again, and came home.
If it weren't for the wild excitement of life, I don't know what I'd do.
The novel and agents situation remains the same. I'm still looking for a nice, kind, good, reliable, enthusiastic literary agent for my crime/detective thriller number 1, while I try to write number 2. You heard about it here first.
I'm also waiting for the news that I haven't won the Arvon poetry competion again, but that will fail to drop through my letterbox later on, sometime in Novemeber.
As they say, "Nil carborundum illegitimi"
There were no Roman soldiers marching up the streets, since I was about two thousand years too late, but once a year there is a Roman day, where people wear cardboard armour covered with tinfoil, and stonk about like a mass formation of wallies. Fortunately, this was not the Roman day, either.
Instead, Hedgehog and Hedgehogette visited several charity shops in succession, bought little or nothing, swithered about cuppas in a tearoom, did nothing again, and came home.
If it weren't for the wild excitement of life, I don't know what I'd do.
The novel and agents situation remains the same. I'm still looking for a nice, kind, good, reliable, enthusiastic literary agent for my crime/detective thriller number 1, while I try to write number 2. You heard about it here first.
I'm also waiting for the news that I haven't won the Arvon poetry competion again, but that will fail to drop through my letterbox later on, sometime in Novemeber.
As they say, "Nil carborundum illegitimi"
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