Scotland Is A Different Country

My boys have never shown the slightest interest in doing museum quizzes, so we were somewhat nonplussed when, on being told by the kindly man looking after Oban’s small museum that there would be ‘a wee prize’ if they completed the questionnaire, they proceeded to hunt down every clue with all the diligence of dutiful bloodhounds. The quiz finished, and all questions answered, they presented their forms to the kindly man who gave them their stickers and certificates. They looked a bit nonplussed, but we put that down to their pleasure at completing the quiz. It was only outside that we discovered that they thought ‘a wee prize’ meant ‘a Wii prize’: a Nintendo Wii!

Scotland’s Rainforest

Tomorrow, we’re heading up to Scotland, to the Taynish peninsula in Argyll. When I looked the area up I found it is home to Taynish forest, a National Nature Reserve that’s subtitled, on the Scottish Nature page, ‘Scotland’s Rainforest’! We’re packing waterproofs (and life jackets – the place we’re staying has two canoes and a rowboat).

Taynish Peninsula
Taynish Peninsula

Drought’s Over

After a long period of getting stories rejected – must be about four months now – ‘Julie and Mr Henderson’, a foray into chick lit that started off as a writing exercise has been accepted for publication. If you will just pardon me for a moment – wooohoooooooo!

Ah, that’s better. Normal service will now resume. Thank you for your patience.

The Silence Of The Birds

As I normally get up at around 5am, I can track the rise and decline of the dawn chorus. It grows from what seems like a roundel of relief at getting through another cold night in January and February, building through the Spring months and reaching a crescendo in May, when the birds have usually already been up for an hour or more before I rise. Then it dies away until now, in August, the city seems all but bare of birds and the sun rises into a silent sky.

Rejection notes – no.1 in a series.

 

The normal state of a writer is one of rejection. But a rejection like this one from Brain Harvest is almost better than getting published!

 

While you are likely doomed wrt growing a mustache as magnificent as ours, you have succeeded in writing one of the best opening lines I’ve ever read since I started reading BH slush. And you also wrote, in < 150 words, a story that is surprisingly subtle, and that says something interesting.

 

And yet we’ve decided not to buy it for no good reason whatever — in this crop we got some things that suited our moods better, which is probably an infuriating bout of caprice from your point of view. I can only say I’m sorry, and thank you for this story, and to please send us others.