Friday 4th June 2010
Here we are at June already! I’ll have to get my Druid’s costume out of mothballs ready for the Summer Solstice. I doubt I’ll make Stonehenge this year, but I’ll be there in spirit, marking the rise of the sun on the longest day by hugging a tree at dawn. I love kissing a nice bit of hardwood first thing in the morning. I don’t have much choice really, not living with Dick and Shane, my own dear dominating Druids. They insist I worship at their altars on a regular basis.
I’ve been lax with regard to the electronic diary this year for one reason and another. I have to admit I’ve never fully warmed to this site, it’s a bit of a pain to format, but I can’t be arsed setting up anywhere else. Domestic waters have also been choppy in some respects and I haven't felt like talking about it. I’m busy in the house and garden at the moment and I’ve also been concentrating energies on another pursuit, which is keeping me occupied out of the house and offline. I haven’t lost interest in writing as such, I still keep a paper diary and I’ve been trying to work on some outstanding memoir chapters. I’ve had a bit of a site spruce up today, slapped on some new colours and shifted a bit of furniture around so to speak. I think it looks better. I’ve uploaded some short extracts from each of my books and tidied up a couple of pages.
It’s a gorgeous day today, the sky is blue, the sun warm, the breeze refreshing, so why the hell I’m sitting hunched over a computer keyboard is beyond me. The Daddies will be home soon; they often finish early on a Friday. I don’t have to prepare any din-dins tonight. We’re going over to Leo’s for a barbecue. There’ll be more hot meat on offer than at a gay porn movie premier.
I’m aware I have some outstanding emails to reply to. I’ll try to get around to it this weekend.
I’m off to unfurl my hose and douse the garden with water. God forbid the boyfriends come home to find everything wilting and drooping. You know Dick, he’ll see it as a challenge and we don’t want him doing anything risqué in the shrubbery, not in broad daylight.
