Last week I disappeared beneath a mountain of proofreading. It was a big book for a new client and the deadline was today. So it needed to be ready by the end of Friday in order to catch Special Delivery Saturday morning and guaranteed delivery today. It meant I didn’t even turn on the computer Thursday or Friday, and the poet had to do all of the gig list admin at the tail end of last week. But I did it, and I got it to the post office on time. Now I just hope they’re happy with the work.
At the weekend we decided to go fishing, and I packed a nice writing bag. I’d done hardly any of my own writing during the week and wanted to remedy that.
But when we got to our chosen fishery (Worsbrough – pronounced wuzz-brough), it was all matched out and the only pegs left were on the very, very windy dam head. So we decided to go and look somewhere else … but the car was making the strangest of noises and everyone was turning to stare at us …
The poet had a look but couldn’t see anything, but he decided he wanted to get the car home. There was a garden party happening at the manor that we’d been invited to, and the lane was busy with cars and visitors. But we’d declined due to the fishing … and when he got on his hands and knees, he found the problem. A plastic drinking cup had wedged itself under the chassis and it took him a few efforts to get it out.
By now the weather had changed and we decided against trying again. So he didn’t get any fishing, the dog didn’t get a proper walk, and I didn’t do any writing.
The next day we were off again. He phoned 2 other fisheries, one in Retford and one in Doncaster, but they were both matched up too and if we didn’t get there in the next half-an-hour, we probably wouldn’t get a peg. That’s a shame because both fisheries are very dog friendly – so many of them aren’t. So off we pootled to Worsbrough again … only to find it fully matched again, and this time the whole reservoir was closed to pleasure anglers.
We headed off to find another reservoir, Wintersett, which is supposed to have disabled access, and so plenty of pegs where you can park your car behind you … only we couldn’t find a way in. We contacted Leeds & District Angling Association to find out how to get in, but no one answered any of the numbers we tried. So we asked at the Angler’s Rest, a visitor centre on another of the lakes there, and they said there was a gate at the end of a lane that we needed a key for.
We went in search of said gate to find that yes, indeed, we did need a key. But even if we had a key, we could’t get in because some selfish cow had parked her horse-box in front of the gate and gone off riding. (We’d seen her earlier as we tried to find a way in, and she was spending more time getting ready than her horse.)
So we aborted another trip and headed back via town, when the poet remembered another lake he used to fish, Fleet’s Dam. When we arrived there was, once again, a match going on, but only down the one side. We were able to pitch camp on the opposite bank and spend several hours in this hidden gem in the centre of town (or tarn, as the locals call it). The poet was happy, he even caught some fish, and we’re certainly going again.
Rufus, however, got quite bored. I took him for a walk around the lake and took some photographs, but when we got back he wouldn’t settle unless he was on my lap, and we couldn’t have him barking when there was a match happening on the other side of the lake. So, as a result, I still didn’t get any writing done. But we did have a nice few hours in the fresh air.
It means I’m a bit behind on my word count challenge for August, but first job this morning was the diary (which I should have done last week but didn’t get chance), and I’ve scheduled in several writing sessions this week. I do have Friday off, it’s a jolly day for 4 of us, so a short week.
I also have amendments to an edit I did 2 weeks ago, so that can go to print, and more work to do for another new client. On Wednesday I start another new edit for a regular client.
What’re you up to this week?