Last week was a depressing and stressy week of annoyance and b*llocks. Yes, b*llocks, but at least I censored it. Last weekend, however, was a beautiful isolated glade of loveliness, in which myself and Kaleidoscope Alchemist went to stay in a beautiful B&B in Mablethorpe for three nights. It was the Cross Guest House and is quite simply one of the nicest places ever.
Nanowrimo wise, it's going OK. There were a few days last week where I couldn't bring myself to do any but right now I'm on 19,000 words which is about a day ahead of where I should be so I'm pretty happy with that. The actual story is a pile of unmitigated balls, but can I expect any more from what is essentially speed writing?
Balls aside, I officially heart Nanowrimo. Even though it's stressy and it takes at least an hour and a half every day when I'm knackered, and even though I kinda hate what I'm writing, I'm still so glad I'm doing it and I look forward to doing it again. I feel like I'm learning an awful lot from it, and that's really the point. Yay!
I recently ended a post bigging up Hula Hoops and Kitkat caramels. This week I end with being annoyed with the Jane Austen Centre.
Anyone who knows me knows I'm an enormous regency bore, and that I can't get enough of the stuff. Which make my intense dislike of the Jane Austen Centre even more worthy of comment, I think. I don't know why I'm still on their mailing list, I guess I enjoy being outraged by the fact that they wouldn't help me with my dissertation (bitter much?), yet they will peddle any vaguely Austen-related crap to squeeze a few more pennies out of one who is already one of the world's most popular authors. Hang your head in shame, Jane Austen Centre. And stop selling so much rubbish.