Courgette Soup Syndrome

I have been off-blog for a few days now because my netbook has been unwell. But now my netbook is better and I am back. 'Hurrah!' I hear you cry...oh, come on, do play the game...

Anyway, the netbook, which I was given as a birthday present last year by Andy, suddenly went all peculiar in the screen. One minute it was okay, the next it had taken on the colour of courgette soup when it develops a bit of a scum after its been left standing in the fridge for too long. It seemed to affect colours in the red end of the spectrum only (I say this with all the conviction of someone who knows exactly what she's talking about of course, aha!), and the machine was still usuable, but there was something clearly wrong with its innards, and one can only look at a green and mouldy courgette soup screen for so long before it start making one's eyes go squiffy.

So the receipts were duly retrieved, the guarantee confirmed as active for another six weeks, and several e-mails passed between Andy and some techno-centre chappie which included a list of suggestions of 'Things To Try', the last of which was 'Send It Back To Us and We Shall Repair It For Free Under the Terms of the Guarantee.' Andy tried all the suggested ideas which resulted in him swearing a bit and getting antsy. I inadvertently discovered that if I squeezed the netbook, the screen reverted to normal. However, squeezing a netbook renders both hands unable to do anything else useful, like typing or workng a floating mouse, so although I felt triumphant in that I, techno-phobe girl, had cured a netbook, the triumph was minor and the netbook was duly sent off for repair.

It came back today! How about that for service? Picked up by courier Monday, arrived for repair on Tuesday, repaired and re-posted on Wednesday, arrived home on Thursday. According to the repair sheet the LCD has been replaced. There was no mention of squeezing.

In the meantime, I have occupied myself with a huge dollop of writing. My desk top computer in my writing -soon-t0-be-therapy room does not have internet access, so I have no option other than to write when I am on it. Okay, and maybe play the odd game of Patience, or Majong, but there's no getting distracted by interwebbly malarkey, or making random purchases of highly important books from Amazon. As a result, I have written 8 thousand words of 'Nearly King Jimbo' over the last two days, plus another thousand words of 'Merrily Kissed By an Angel' and a ranting letter to myself about eating too many nuts and not doing enough exercise.

The loss of the second part of 'Nearly King Jimbo' on my old and now definitely deceased laptop turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Although I am keeping to the original plot in a very loose manner (luckily, the synopsis survived in the form of the good old paper copy), I'm having to re-write the second part anew. My spirit tells me the writing is fresher and snappier than it was before, and I've been able to get rid of the tenuous and oft contrived plot points that were bugging me from the original script but that, at the time, I was too lazy to do anything about. I've even been able to use the phrase, 'That's the badger!' and include my friend Sarah's cat, Bob, in a cameo role.

A copy of 'Ginnungagaps' arrived from Lulu. Actually, due to some technical error, it was only half a copy, but it has given us an idea of what we can expect from the self-publication of 'NKJ', and what we need to do in order to improve layout especially as Andy's collection of illustrations is gathering apace.

Other news...
...after harvesting some pink fir apple potatoes from the allotment, I can now report they are neither fur-like, appley and are only a little bit pink, and I am marginally disappointed they didn't end up looking like replicas of the pink Duracell bunny...
...I have harvested the first Malarkey Manor hops, and feel I have connected a family hopping tradition to the next generation, some of my family on my mum's side having been hop-farmers...
...Andy has made damson jam from damsons purloined from the edge of the park down the road in a surreptitious way at 6 o'clock the other morning...
...the hall, stairs and landing are complete in their redecoration, and the Manor looks tres posh et chic and I have done much swanning up and down the hall and stairs thinking, 'Isn't this rather lovely and civilised? Yes it is!'
...Mrs Slocombe has stopped moulting and is back in lay; Mrs Pumphrey has started moulting and is off lay. I love it - relay egg-laying!
...the bee-hive is a happy bee-hive.