A fairly random confluence of stuff, but I'm not in a mood for bullet points today. Firstly, I'm currently in a state of mild disbelief at what has been going on with the cricket. Apparently the groundsman at the Sir Vivian Richards stadium in Antuiga doesn't know the difference between beach cricket and Test cricket, because the outfield is so soft and sandy that the day's play has had to be abandoned for fear of injury to the bowlers. Since this isn't something that's going to get better, there's a good chance of the whole match being called off. This will ruin the carefully planned holidays of all the travelling supporters, and probably cost somebody a great deal of money at some point. In theory, they could just move down the road to the old Antuiga Recreation Ground, but I don't see it happening.
I was going to post something yesterday, but I was simply too tired. Wednesday saw the fencing club take a trip to Bangor, and I wound up doing the driving. So that's 200 miles there, fence for a bit, then 200 miles back. I think I got back home about midnight. On the plus side, we won. And I learnt my only Welsh. Fforde Allen= Way Out, apparently.
Regarding my earlier comments on rejection, I take it all back. I love you, editory people. Mostly, of course, that's because I've just had a short story accepted, and I'm fickle like that.
Incidentally, thank you to everyone who commented on my Bob the Vampire RIP post, since it has helped me to stop being such a wimp about the eventual fate of one of my other characters. Frankly, she deserves exactly the fate that I'd originally planned for her, but I was starting to have second thoughts. Now I'm not.