Strictly-speaking, it was pre-Valentine dessert, a gift from our favourite neighbour, Vicki. Cherry tart, with handmade Cognac chocolate truffles. Pretty damn good after meatloaf, mashed potatoes, carrots and peas. First course was beer. (Creative writing students: rewrite that paragraph, with particular attention to narrative grammar.)
I'd had a tremendously pent-up day: writing, writing, writing (which is good) but writing about not killing people (huh) and not having sex (poor Hild). Beer and food made everything magically better. And, hey, I'm thinking that in honour of Valentine's day today I might write a wedding. A twisty wedding, of course, because pure happiness doesn't make for good Story. Heh heh. Ooh, and then some war!
I swear, Hild's narrative grammar is better than this blog post.
Happy Valentine's day, all.
