So, tomorrow is publishing day for the KMWC and my book will be in shops. My family pinched all the free ones I was sent (I’ve had to write ‘My Copy’
Find Wine!
Funny how things turn out sometimes. Yesterday, I got a flat tyre on the way to school. I had to kill an hour in town whilst waiting for a lift home: cue blissful time in the local bookshop, followed by a coffee and browse in my very favourite clothes shop, leaving in a pair of age-inappropriate wedge trainers.
There’s been a fair few reports in the last week, including one on how it is the mother, rather than the father’s drinking habits that shape how our children will drink in 20 years time (based largely on the fact that fathers drink in the pub, mothers at home).
Opening Ceremony? I cried. Lizzie Armitstead’s cycling Silver? Cried again. Rebecca Adlington’s 400m freestyle Bronze? More waterworks. Men’s team gymnastics? Equestrian team?
Last Monday, I hit send. I pressed the button and off went my book (or manuscript, apparently) to my editor. Thing is, I still can’t say manuscript without feeling like this shouldn’t happening to me, or for that matter say editor without wanting to actually hug her.
This week has been chaotic. Like, properly, stupidly, chaotic. Whoever thought it was a good idea to combine school holidays with a child’s bodyweight in chocolate clearly didn’t think it through.
The first time Bearded Husband and I spent Valentine’s Day together, we’d actually been together for seven years. Different schools (we were fifteen when started ‘going out’, not that we went anywhere then) followed by different universities meant we weren’t in the same place on Valentine’s Day until then.
If you fancy doing the same – combining cake and wine that is, not behaving badly in a tearoom – then here’s your chance!
Last week I mentioned the Call My Wine Bluff wine quiz I took part in the week before that. The one where I had to guess what the wine in my glass was –
No, I don’t mean whether K-Mid’s up the duff, or whether K-Kard’s wedding was a fake, or whether I’ve bought the right kick-ass winter boots (which I know I have, btw).
