There are advantages to growing older (yes, really!) but the decrease in memory capacity is not one of them. Now that most of the library visits are over I’m trying to catch up with work, and yesterday picked up a new reference book I hadn’t yet found time to look at. Inside were helpful notes – in my own handwriting.
In between further assaults on the ‘to read’ pile (now nearing three feet high, but possibly I’ve read some of them already) I’ve spent the last few days scowling at the laptop screen, drinking coffee and checking emails every 5 minutes. This is euphemistically known as ‘writing’, something editors like to know is in progress but which doesn’t make for fascinating blog posts. So, feeling the blog had been somewhat neglected of late, I turned to the scribbled list of emergency ideas for Things to Write About.
Third in the list (below ‘treading grapes’ and ‘on being pirated’, which may appear here shortly) was another mystery. What in heaven’s name did ‘Saved by a plastic chicken’ mean?