There is no such thing as a bad taste

[desperance]

I just ate a pimento-stuffed olive, and got washed with flavours of aniseed. Which I do not love. Or like, except in limited circumstances and when I am prepared for it. Fennel's okay, fennel's good these days, but that's about as far as I will go. Tarragon's good. Like that. This? Hmmph. I think the olives are Greek, and some reckless fool splashed ouzo over 'em.

In other news, many of my novels have secret titles undisclosed. I may have mentioned this before, but this one? The Game of Cat and Dragon. Which one of them will have to lose.

In other other news, sickness is like a second adolescence: my head hurts, and all I want to do is lie on the sofa and imbibe. Soup, tea, whisky. Stargate and Neal Stephenson. That's about the limit of it. I was not an ambitious adolescent...

I can be ambitious for my friends; it would be a fine thing, it seems to me, if y'all went out and bought copies of Dragon in Chains by Daniel Fox for all your friends for Xmas. Then they could read it just in time for the sequel, Jade Man's Skin, and love you for evermore. Wouldn't that be nice...?

Urgh. Aargh. *creeps off back to sofa*