sawyl | Jottings from the edge

Todays thoughts, obsessions and blinding revelations from the world of the random are as follows:

any morning which features the two piano version of Saint-Saëns' Danse Macabre is automatically better than any morning that doesn't;
the line between a running top that's supposed to fit like a second skin and one that actually fits like a first skin is narrow indeed;
Bear's words of wisdom on characterisation are wise indeed and should be read by all, but especially by anyone who has ever read, or has ever thought about writing, a novel of any description;
that the Naming of Hosts is a difficult matter, it isn't just one of your holiday games; you may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter when I tell you, a host must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES;
that tomorrow is going to be busy — I'm supposed to have a briefing paper ready for a meeting tomorrow afternoon and I've yet to write a word of it.

In other news, my return to swimming is going well and, according to the distance counter, I've just crossed the Silverlode and been blindfolded by a group of elves.

Miles to Lothlórien: 44