If talking to oneself is the first sign of madness, which sign is spending the evening attempting to placate outraged inanimate object after fellow inanimate object was knitted winter accessories? And subsequently feeling guilty for calling them ‘inanimate objects’? I thought Wol’s neck looked a little bare you see, so I made him a scarf. The ensuing insanity, whilst possibly disturbing to the casual observer, was actually the sort of thing I was hoping would happen by creating my characters. It helps me get to know them and gives me ideas about what might happen in their story.
In other news I went to see the Birmingham Royal Ballet perform The Nutcracker last night (stunning, inspiring, awesome). And so I was listening to Tchaikovsky’s music whilst the above unfolded. Thoroughly recommend popping on ‘Trepak’ or the ‘russian dance’, as appropriate soundtrack to the following: