Cold days

I seem to be a little out of synch with my posts. I don't usually bother at the weekend, as everyone is busy with family and home, but today - why not? Yesterday was cold, and last night even colder. Today the frost is gripping hard and shows no signs of letting up. The first supply of peanuts and sultanas are out ont he bird table and the blackbirds are mobbing it. I'll save my brisk walk until around midday, when it might be a tad warmer.
Still, it's good weather for getting work done. DH is excavating floorboards in order to insert lights in the ceiling of the floor below, and in between the horrendous whine and howl of the drill-thing he's using, I can get on with my own stuff. Wrote 1200 good words yesterday that didn't need much polishing up, and will aim for the same today.


frozen sundial

The tricky thing is getting my character from point A - point B in France, and trying to describe sixteenth century French countryside. My French is limited, which makes research something of a guessing game. But I'll use what I know of the country today and historical facts I'm sure of, and see what I end up with. Maybe taking Matho to France wasn't such a good idea after all!

Authentically British

There’s an interesting post on Smart Bitches – here’s the link - here - which begins:
“Dear various American authors of historical romances who are trying very, very hard to sound authentically British,
It’s not like I’m the foremost Britpicker of all time. Not even close. But I’ve noticed a distressing trend among your ranks in recent days.”

Anyone who writes anything vaguely historic will find the letter and the comments that follow it entertaining, interesting and informative. I certainly did, and though I didn’t agree with everything, was astonished to learn that my understanding of cetain rude words was a little out of kilter to the norm. Comes of a sheltered childhood, I imagine!

The weather is ferociously cold here in the north east. Temperatures of minus three all day, and plummeting to minus nine and worse at night, is unusual. On the other hand, it is bearable with blue sky and sunshine. I am feeding the birds cracked peanuts, sultanas, mixed seeds and bits of bacon fat, and am amazed that they can tolerate such conditions. The ground is so hard there's no hope of finding worms. How do birds no bigger than a golf ball survive the long, dark nights? From four in the afternoon until eight the next morning - about sixteen hours in freezing temperatures?