I'm home alone this morning; Marilyn is picking up Jamie to take him to the dentist. He's expecting to be given some serious anaesthetic and won't be safe to drive. So I'm left at home to write my weekly story for the Writing Group, hang out some washing and make the bed. That's what my life is reduced to these days: living vicariously through stories and carrying out some low level household chores. What's next? Day-time television?
I've posted the story, called Maire's Wedding, on the other, blog, 1000 Words or Less, and that's probably the only public airing it will have. I'll miss this week's class because we're going to Hobart for the weekend, staying somewhere in Richmond. We're responsible for the dog, Archie, so are limited to the handful of places which will tolerate dogs. There's also a Dog Show somewhere close by this weekend so that limits availability of accommodation.
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