T-L Spencer: Dreaming, Writing, Reading

I’m not just bread; I’m the most sophisticated, scientific bread around. I am not that plain and icky white bread, nor am I the snobby wholemeal type that gets jammed between the teeth. No. I am something much more important: I’m the best of both. The last slice. Here in the dark coolness of the bread bin, I am King. Kingston’s to be exact. It is true. I am the tastiest bread around. When I’m fresh. At present, I am a little on the stale side. In fact, just recently, I have acquired a small fur coat in the top right corner of my being. Usually, were I by myself, this wouldn’t really matter. However, being in a bread bin, I am joined by some rather unscrupulous pastries. The sweet cinnamon swirl does nothing but sing all day and I find myself being bullied by the brioche. Well really, what do you expect? It’s French. Escape is paramount. Escape is the name of the game; to be free from the black void of wooden woe, away from the pastries and bread buns, away from the cheap and cheer...

I spent an entire day at college, attempting to better myself. But my main priority? That was getting home in order to finish off the latest Sparks novel in the Love at Stake series. Gregori Holstein's story was eagerly awaited and it didn't diappoint. With the vampire world in peril, it fell to Gregori, a young and bottlefed vampire to save their kind and persuade the President of the United states to declare the video a hoax. Enter the President's daughter, Abigail. There will be an alliance between the vampires and the Americans on one condition. Gregori must keep Abigail happy and in order to do that, he must take her to China. Because China holds the key to her mother's health... or does it? A brilliant read and I simply cannot wait for the next installment!

The garden furniture got a makeover this morning as we said goodbye to the old and tired brown paint on the JacknJill and our lovely picnic table. It took three hours but the result is fantastic. The JacknJill has come up brilliantly and looks oddly similar to vimto. It certainly adds a certain something to the garden and makes it alot lighter. After all, no one wants a dingy garden do they? The picnic table isn't quite finished, it needs another layer on top and the fiddly bits haven't been done yet. I'm looking forward to finishing it; it gives me the brilliant excuse to get dirty and maybe have a paint fight. I'll just have to make sure that when I get my hands dirty, I don't itch my face!

My second week of the professional writing course has past and I find myself hard at work and the challenge itself is surprisingly refreshing. After nearly a year of staying at home, the change is welcome, even if it is really tiring. I'm looking forward to next week.

Three women are destined to save humanity from the darkness, but they must find each other first.Here is an extract from Blood Angel, volume one of Blood Prophecy: The house was black as pitch, not one thing could lift the cloud of darkness that veiled my eyes as I tip-toed inside the house, weary of the evils that hide within its walls. Out of nowhere, I was attacked, Mother had hit me hard. All I felt was the usual sensation of glass hitting bone before I was unconscious on the floor. Blackness descended upon me, my last sight before darkness took me was of my Mother being subdued by a masculine figure. My guardian angel – a comforting thought as my mind was claimed by hell. “Easy”, a voice, full of masculine heat and concern steadied me as my head spun, “your head took a knock. I could kill your Mother for that.” I lay back down, held my head and asked what time it was. “Two thirty in the morning. Let’s give you some fresh air. I think you need it.” Before I had a chance to protest,...

A moment of moggie... A funny sign is on the box and all I want is to catch bugs. Its still dark and I haven't been outside for hours. I'm a cat, I need to hone my skills, perfect my nunting technique... but my humans won't get up! I make noise, verbalising my disdain for their laziness. They simply fidget in their warm nest and moan, 'Its too early'. I have no idea what that means but it doesn't sound all that good. They ignore me once again and I get impatient. Every minute they lie there, I miss hundreds of hunting opportunities. What could they be thinking? A funny looking paw, they call them hands i think, hangs over the nest, flopping loudly to the floor. It is the male. My whiskers twitch as I walk over to it and nudge it lightly with my cold nose. My whiskers tickle the hand and it moves unexpectedly. I jump back, startled, but it doesn't stop me. I want those bugs, I want those flies. I want that odd animal that hops up and down and sueals when I po...