I lit out of the house early this morning and left Husband and the Sprogs to their own devices. So they went worming in the reserve across the road. As you do. And now the worms are sitting in a worm farm on my kitchen bench. Ewwww. Ewwwww. Ewwwww. Ewwww …
Then Sprog 1 got to work on her first novel, as a power point presentation. It’s called My Pet Werewolf. There are illustrations and everything. Her computer skills at age 8 far outstrip mine at 43. The things they teach them in second class these days. She’s only done the chapter outlines so far …
Chapter one:
It all started when me and my brother Andy went for a holiday to England we thought it would be boring but we were so wrong …
Chapter two:
That was when I chose the dog. How stupid of me …
Etc, etc. I didn’t write my first novel until I was 11 (Champ! The Wonder Dog, cover below). Sadly, it was also my last. I just don’t have another in me. Quite a relief for my former employers, I’m sure. I’d love to write a movie script about being a weekly mag slag, but I’m too busy dithering over blog entries.
housegoeshome 
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