Has anyone else noticed that time is doing very odd things at the moment? Christmas was only a moment or two ago, and it was fine to eat an entire bar of Galaxy before breakfast because there was going to be 5 whole weeks to exist on nothing but herbal tea and ryvita before the lovely, glamorous Mills & Boon centenary cocktail party.
Of course, the idea of herbal tea and ryvita is unappealing in the extreme at any time of the year, but in the freezing greyness of January and the shadow of a deadline it’s barbaric. So today sees me heading to the shops in search of magic knickers. (Has Harry Potter ventured into the world of ladies’ underwear? If not he really should.)
Spent yesterday at home in a fug of central heating and olbas oil with two sick children-- which probably couldn't have contrasted more hugely with the glamour and excitement of the RNA Awards lunch. As the loooooooong day darkened and my patience was almost exhausted I got a text from lovely Kate Hardy to say that she'd won the Romance Prize for her book Breakfast at Giovanni's. The fuzzy felt pieces and discarded tissues all over the floor, the 78th argument about whose turn it was in Animal Snap and the fact that by then I too was succumbing to The Cold all melted away in the face of such happy news. Well done Kate!