Friends, Martins and Feline Company

Very busy, but fun, weekend.

Good friends visiting, lots of great company, entertaining food and not a little alcohol. It’s left me shattered but happy. Then I found that someone who calls herself a friend isn’t anything of the sort. But hey, not gonna let one snide idiot ruin the week for me.

The novel didn’t get much attention over the weekend, but I did manage to add 800 new words in between the various bouts of socialising. And some research involving an atlas and a Dictionary of Archaeology. Also found time to rough out the finances for our day of writing workshops next year. It’s not intended as a money-spinner, but I reckon we’ll easily break even. More planning to be done and will discuss it in more detail at the CRAG meeting tomorrow. The big question is: What do people want in a writing workshop? Should be interesting to see what the rest of the CRAGgies have in mind.

The house martins have been twittering a lot today. We’ve got one nest on the house this year and there are three more in sight of our front door. Judging by the number flying around, there must be at least a dozen more in the area. We’ve got a cardboard box opened out on the path under the nest. We learnt the hard way that we need to protect the slabs two years ago, when they first nested here. Trick is to wait until the cardboard is suitably filthy, pick a time when it’s not too wet, and put it out for the worm-recycling collection. I’m sure they enjoy noshing on the combination of cardboard, eggshells and, um – well, you can guess!

The cats, of course, are fascinated by our resident birds. Meme has already demonstrated her hunting skills by catching house martins in the past. Hopefully she won’t get one of the nesting ones! Smotyn just sits outside and watches them flitting around. She’s currently sprawled next to me, belly-up and purring.