My Jubilee

[erastes]

The Jubilee weekend was rather fab (televisual-wise, I don’t do parties) – The pageant was absolutely amazing, although I was disappointed that the queen went up the river in a Booze Cruise bus rather than the rowed ship made specially for the occasion. What was the point of that ship, I wonders?

The concert was rather too cheesy for my taste. Cheryl Cole was out of tune – whoever thought that woman could sing on her own? And Cliff was just embarrassing, and Rolf had had one too many giggle juices I think… But it was very English and every Made The Best of It. I loved Lenny Henry berating the Queen for turning up after an hour had gone by. “You live just THERE…” he accused… LOL

Of course the current generation would have no clue who LH WAS, and are probably wondering why the bloke from Premier Inns was co-hosting. 

There were some very odd music choices, Grace Jones (who I love) suitably barking mad in a rubber corset and hula hooping throughout “Slave to the Rhythm” (very impressive, I can’t do 3 hulas, let alone five solid minutes whilst singing live on break-ankle heels.)

But all in all a Right Royal Do which had me waving my proverbial flag, actually standing up for the Anthem and wishing I was there. But happy to be on the couch.

I did get a good bit of writing done (after all, Carers don’t get long weekends, or indeed any weekends) and I’m literally within two or three pages of being DONE. The book has only taken two years to write, but it’s only really one year when you consider that for 2011 I wrote nothing at all.

I had a dilemma as to how suspicion would be placed on the person that suspicion needs to fall on, and had asked many more expert at crime people than me-all of whom had great advice, thanks guys—but in the end as i was re-reading and editing bits of it, I found the ideal opportunity to do it, and all I had to do was to change “my [xxxxx]” to “a [xxxx]” and ta-da, the person who needs to be arrested will be arrested.

No more murders for me though. not ones that need to be solved, at least. Murders in earlier times than 1920s must have been much easier. Push a Regency buck into a canal and if no one sees you, hurrah. Forensics, even in their infancy, are a pain in the arse. I don’t know how crime writers do it.