iTunes and mice, Cramond and writing

I've been worrying unnecessarily about mice disposal. Not that this will definitely be required before Thursday when the man of the house returns from his travels/travails, but there are still signs we haven't yet eliminated our uninvited tenants. Should there be another death, however, there is someone who might do the unthinkable.















My son's always been a strong negotiator - strong's inadequate, ruthless more like. As a seven year old, when obliged to accompany me on clothes shopping excursions he'd strike a deal. For every shop I went into, he received 50p. This proved so profitable it reached the stage where he'd say 'I hope you don't see anything you like,' even as we pushed through the swing doors. At the time I didn't know whether to be dismayed by such sharpness or impressed by a burgeoning business acumen. As he's grown older, he has honed his skills. Now we barter in iTunes, which is where the mice come in. The only questions remaining unanswered are: how many iTunes will he demand for each dead creature he removes? Is it right to ask him to dispose of the mice, because I'm too feart to do it, and is it right to pay him?


Yesterday we cycled out to Cramond, had an ice cream and cycled back, managing to avoid the rain showers. No mean achievement. The River Forth sounded and smelled like the sea, satisfying my penchant for being by water.












In the evening I reached my 20,000 words for the first draft of the assignment. Not that I'm in any way complacent. I regard it as a block of wood requiring copious amounts of sanding, carving, sculpting, oiling, varnishing and any other processes applied to wood. The hard graft begins now.







Grittingly yours,


Jane