With a serpent coiled under his collar

[sovay]

Happy Saint Patrick's Day. I am not catching a bus to Northampton to see the National Theatre's Frankenstein with teenybuffalo. I am, I think, trying not to move very much. I may go outside, where it's sunny and almost springlike, and bask. I can see the swans are back on the reservoir.

Comments notification appears to be finally un-borking itself, however, so at least I can catch up on conversations I've missed. And there's always the hope of a repeat broadcast.

P.S. Caitlín has posted photographs from the last two days of editing deathmarch. I rather like the one of us on the couch. The train station, however, I really should remember not to try to talk when people are taking my picture.

Comments

[pwtucker.livejournal.com]

You seem to have acted the veritable Virgil to her Dante, leading her through the hell of edits and ensuring she made it through to the other side sane and in one piece. Well done!

[sovay]

You seem to have acted the veritable Virgil to her Dante, leading her through the hell of edits and ensuring she made it through to the other side sane and in one piece.

Crap, now I want to write a poem about the Inferno from Vergil's point of view and I have no brain.

[humglum.livejournal.com]

Let it percolate in the brainless skull, and when the brain returns, it will be done.

And that sounds like something from an early 17th century book of medicine...

[sovay]

And that sounds like something from an early 17th century book of medicine...

Doubling as a cookbook.