A weekend, um, not quite entirely off...

I really was trying not to work this weekend. Woke up yesterday morning in Another City (okay, Durham, it's only fifteen minutes by train, but nevertheless...), and came home with my eye on two separate parties, starting at three o'clock, so why would I...?

And yet, I sorta kinda couldn't think of anything else to do, or anything I wanted to do more than I wanted to knock out a few hundred words of novel. So I did that, before pulling on my glad rags (they're black) and heading off.

Took the Metro to the coast, stepped off at Tynemouth and walked along the seafront from there to Whitley Bay, thinking I really shoulda thought to take the camera; located party, and committed partying. Feeling not terribly well by then, but hey: red wine is like red paint, it coats a great many feelings well enough. And there were old friends there and newer ones, and it's all good.

And thence eventually to samarcand's rival party, which I probably ought to stop doing this because being drunk already when you turn up is graceless and leads to confusions and fallings out, but what's a man to do when people have parties on the same day...?

Anyway, shewhomust and durham_rambler were there, and so was Gail but she left before I could talk to her; and there was more drinking and so forth, and like that.

And this morning I was out to the coast again, for a lunch date; but I have a story I have to write, in concert with the knowledge of a man who knows about global warming and such; and I did fling the title and a first line onto the computer before I set out, and I thought that would probably do for the day, because, y'know, what use am I after a lunch date...?

But now I am home and here at the computer, all unexpectedly, because...

D'you remember a few months ago, I was talking about shaving Half-Emperor Cyrrhenius? Well, I seem to have started writing. Not actually that story, because I still haven't got him figured out; but it was always meant to be a sequence, so this is the way in: it's about a steampunk archaeological dig, and at the moment it's called "The Matter of the Metal Detective", and I'm just jotting down the opening page or so, honest, it isn't really working...

If anyone out there knows how metal detectors work: would it be possible to make one that was either steam-powered or - preferably - clockwork?

Oh, all right, then...

You can have the first sentence of "The Matter of the Metal Detective". No more than that, mind. And only because it's good.

A steam-camel is as uncomfortable, as cantankerous, as noisy and smelly and eruptive as the natural animal.

Oh, all right, then (redux)

For slovobooks, because I have no resistance (is there an electrical term, for a substance that has no resistance? Because that would be me, that would):

A steam-camel is as uncomfortable, as cantankerous, as noisy and smelly and eruptive as the natural animal.
Also, it is considerably less efficient. On a journey of any distance it needs to carry so much - in terms of fuel and water and tools - for its own benefit, there is barely any remaining load-bearing capacity. And it demands constant attendance, from one acquainted with its nerves and fits and principles. As of course do I, but I should like to hope that I am easier on my man than any steam-camel. Certainly I am cleaner; beyond that, you had best ask Cheng.
None the less, Lord Castaigne's man of business had engaged three of the enginious beasts, one apiece for me, for himself and for their mechanician. Cheng must walk, alongside the dozen men needed to carry my kit and various items for the camp.

Still working on it. I'm not at all sure about "enginious", but "ingenious" is too easy to misunderstand, and it's all the same root, so...

Well, that was a surprise...

... Or possibly it's just a crap quiz? I have corrected the more egregious spelling errors, because I'm like that. But really, I do like a question to be clever. Alas...

Your result for The Which Discworld Character Am I Test...

Mustrum Ridcully

You scored 91 intelligence, 42 morality, and 67 physical strength!

As Archchancellor of the Unseen University, you are the most sensibly pig-headed wizard on campus. And what is perhaps more remarkable than being able to summon fireballs whenever you want them, you're even usually right. You have Rincewind's luck without any of his pathetic everyman-ness. After all, you *are* Archchancellor.

Take The Which Discworld Character Am I Test at HelloQuizzy

Underwater sculptures

Okay, these are a bit creepy. But also rather brilliant.