Sep 04 2009
oops, wrong word!
So it’s late and I decided that I could do with working on the novel a bit more. Yes, the time according to Accurist - or Sky tv anyway - is currently 00:55.
Still, it won’t sort itself out. I wanted to polish up a drunken encounter, the sort that ends in making a lunge at someone that maybe wasn’t quite so wise. So there I am with a description - showing, not telling - obviously - and I ask my dear husband if I have got the right word to describe strong upper limbs. Dutifully, all thanks to him, he looks it up and my strong upper limbs are really Celtic armpits. Maybe they were strong, but would that not put you off rather than fill you with lust?
So there she is, my lady, doing the ‘oh my you are so tall and masterful’ whole Mills and Boon bit, but now I need another line to follow because you can’t have her wondering about making soup from triceps and biceps - no matter how drunk she is. It’s wrong on too many levels…..
The lesson for today - oxters are defined as armpits, and soup is from oxtails anyway.
Wurdburds final thought? Please drink responsibly, and if you do find a recipe for triceps and biceps, leave it well alone…
