Its been a long dry spell on the writing front. A PC that refuses to run for more than 15 minutes is nerve wracking and I didn't want to start anything incase it shut down without warning in the middle of a sentence or something. So I spent frantic 10 minute spells on the net and managed to get a reconditioned laptop at a reasonable cost from Ebay. It was a tricky endeavor because of sudden shutdowns and I missed two, bought one that never arrived, missed another and then got the one I am now working on. Of course its got nothing on it but Windows7 which means I am spending serious amounts of time downloading stuff like Flashplayer and word processing programmes etc. At least it's quiet, fast and doesn't shut down just when things get interesting. Now all I have to do is produce a novel plot line by Saturday. Simples, Tsk.
She Who returns to Scotland tomorrow. The snooty Oldenburg can get sweaty again and I will be able to sit on the sofa without a spaniel balanced on the top of my head. When Buffy feels lonely she likes to sit on your head, balanced against the back of the sofa. My neck is solidly locked from the weight of her. I will also be able to walk without the danger of treading on the Spollie. Spollie, who is rightly known as Ben is a Collie with identity issues in that he believes himself to be a Cocker Spaniel. Currently, Ben believes that She Who has gone forever and ever and ever and consequently, HE MUST NOT LET ME OUT OF HIS SIGHT! He has other issues too, stemming from being shut in a crate for the first 9 months of his life and not always fed. To suggest he is less sane than even the normal half crazed sheepdog is to put it mildly. He chews things, even though he is now 2 and not a pup, To date he has chewed a saddle, the kitchen table and countless socks, knickers and shoes. Cardboard and paper is not safe anywhere near him, and he completely destroyed She Who's new mobile phone by taking it out for a jolly time in the vegetable garden. Ben has serious food issues, he's not greedy but he worries about the availability of food and is happier if there is always a bowl of biscuits on the floor. But despite driving us nuts chasing the poor benighted cats he is loveable and loving and extemely beautiful and at least living with us he is safe and happy. Things are just things and can be replaced. Ben is family.
And we are missing a cat. I feel guilty as I turfed him out on Wednesday to get some excersise and because he is not the cleanest animal in the house. He has not returned and I think that perhaps evil may have befallen the fat elderly black mog. I hope not but it has been nearly a week which is a long time for a cat that rarely moves from the prone position.
Oops and here comes the Tesco man almost an hour early so best go corral the Hellhounds and stock up the fridge.