Best do an #introduction toot: I'm in the green hills of rural Lancashire, in the UK, and I write novels, short stories and terrible poetry. I once had a No. 1 best-seller in Germany #amwriting. Will post occasional photographs #photography
I like #football, proper #coffee, #history, #lexicography, #cheese and #Pink.
#NoMowMay doing wonders on the slope at the front of our house. Blooming gorgeous, and a-buzz with the bombinations of bees and the flitting of butterflies.
Good morning, my bright stars. I've been awake for quite a while already, mind-drifting a universe where death is a tropical island, and all the things we've lost over the long years of our lives, even memories, gradually wash up onto the warm beach.
This is what it looks like when you catch a swarm that's too big for the box. You never get a swarm in all in one go - there's always a few that are off looking for a new home, or who fly up as you tap the main body of the swarm into the box, so you leave the box nearby and wait for them all to fly in. Which they will do because the queen is in there. Bees who have made it to the box will fan their wings at the entrance, spreading her pheromones out as a homing beacon. Anyway, you don't usually see them all on the outside like this, and certainly not when the evening is cooler. The solution, btw, is to put them in a full size hive, and wait again for them all to go in.
Feel like I ought to go a walk but I know it'll be crowded on the lanes and in the village wood in this weather and besides it's a long steep uphill first no matter which way I go and the sun will be in my eyes and sod it I can't really be arsed.
Last night I left a poor bloke drifting helplessly in space, spaghettifying towards a black hole. I suppose he'll be wanting me to get up and write the rest of his story.
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