No blog post yesterday due to being a walking disaster area. I woke up with some sort of invisible ninja dwarf jabbing hot knitting needles into my back and hip, hurpled about for a bit, then decided to take that there newfangled advice them doctors is givin' out these days and to keep mobile. So I went out and dug the garden. For about ten and a half hours. Without a break.

Now while it's nice to get a sense of achievement for a change, I've managed to break pretty much every part of me. Everything hurts. Even my eyelashes are sore. That bloody vertically-challenged invisible ninja has been joined by his two dozen friends, some of whom have lump hammers. Every time I move it sounds like I'm made of rusty door hinges. I crouch down (because bending over makes the room go AAAAAAAAAAAArgh!) and my knees make the same kind of noise you get by snapping sticks of celery. And every so often I groan -- not the good kind of groaning either.

But looking on the bright side, at least we now have stuff planted in the back garden. Yes I know it's too late for them to really come to much, but right now they're a sort of horticultural placebo. There's nothing quite so satisfying as eating something you've grown yourself -- culinarily speaking, I mean I can think of other things a lot more satisfying, but it's before the watershed so I can't mention them -- tatties, beans, courgettes, garlic, Jerusalem artichokes... Mmm, garden grown food.

That's two years in a row I've been crap with the vegetables. Long gone are the days referenced in my writers bio where 'Stuart... lives in the north east of Scotland with his wife and enough potatoes to feed an army' Last year I blamed the edits -- I was doing them, very slowly, while the weeds were getting out of control, and nothing got planted. This year I'm blaming starting Book 3 too late and having to write while rampant went the weeds. Next year I'm going to blame sunspots. Or Satanic activity in the nethers. Or I could just get my finger out and dig the garden before it resembles Borneo on a bad day.

You never know: first time for everything.