Mrs Widds Eviscerates, Too

Mrs Widds is known far and wide, at least to long-term readers of this blog, as a baker of extraordinarily tasty sweet and savoury dishes.

However, on one memorable day towards the end of 2019 our heater broke and Mrs Widds put her culinary skills to a darker, more nefarious pastime – evisceration!

She eviscerated, she repaired, she reconstructed, until the heater worked again, and continues to do so to this very day.

In 2018 Mrs Widds acquired a dashing scooter to pootle around the highways, byways, and backroads, of our tiny corner of the world.

And pootle she did!

The thing about vehicles, of any sort, is that after a certain age, things start to deteriorate. (as it does with all of us) And so it was with the shiny little scooter.

The battery died, the carburetor had a hissy fit and turned up its toes, other assorted ills came to the fore, until Mrs Widds was forced to do this …

The Eviscerated

The Eviscerated

The Eviscera

The Eviscera

Mrs Widds assures me patient will recover in the fullness of time.

-oOo-

In other news …

The editing continues, slower that I, perhaps unrealistically, hoped, but none-the-less moving along happily.

Editing starts with a print copy

Editing starts with a print copy

I have recovered fully from my interesting week, but it’s taken me another week to get back on my feet. Mrs Widds even had to take over my lawn-mowing/weed-whacking job the other day.

Summer has arrived. The temperature yesterday was a tolerable 25°C but by this afternoon my poor antique thermometer had a fit of the vapours when its mercury topped 33°C  …and presumably got hotter. I don’t know how much hotter because the thermometer refused to countenance any further indignities. I don’t blame it one bit. It always takes me a few days to adjust to these sudden shifts from one season to the next. Which is how they’ve turned for the last five-or-so years now.

Well, the sun is now well under the yardarm and it’s time I put on my editing hat and get to it!

‘The End’

That’s it then.

Three months, two weeks – 97,000 words.

First draft, done.

I feel as though I’ve just ended a very intense affair with a whole bunch of really amazing people.

Fictional or not, I’ve bled with them, laughed and cried with them. Some I didn’t treat very well, some I even killed.

And if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.