Cats. In slutty wigs. It just has all the ingredients of amazement.

Why, why, why do I insist on changing things in my novel just as I think things are going along well? On Friday, I changed a major aspect of one of the three central characters and have spent the weekend making necessary changes. Oh, and having found the horrifying 'Statistics' part in Word, I learnt I have spent a total of 775 minutes and 665 revisions on that alone. 775 minutes. That's, like, twelve hours. But I'm a lot, lot happier with what I have done. I also managed to tackle whole chunks of prose that were, 'tell, tell, tell,' and are now 'show, show, show.' I know I'm moaning (in good spirit, mind) but I actually couldn't be happier with the way things are going.

So, what with this drastic turn of events, the weekend has been pretty good. I went out for a cheeky drink on Friday night with Ben, Frea and Andy, intending to be out for a couple of hours at most. I got home at 3.30 and woke up at first wondering if a train had run over me in the night. I woke again a little later and found I could actually move all my limbs and get out of bed. A great improvement.

That was yesterday and today I have just been getting on with work, still aiming for 50,000 words by a fortnight's time. Should be do-able, so we'll see. I just want to get as much done as possible as I know that as soon as I get back to Bristol it'll be Christmas and I'll be busy, busy, busy. And probably drunk, drunk, sick. What else is the festive season for if not that?

Ooh, and this week I also learnt about this through my friend, Jo. This may well be the best thing I have discovered since 2001's revelation of Scampi Fries. Cats. In slutty wigs. It just has all the ingredients of amazement. And it doesn't disappoint. The blue one gets my vote. So jazzy.

Right, on that note, bed.

xx