C is for captive

It was my step-brother's wedding this weekend. I travelled west; not to attend, but to dog-sit whilst my parents went. I'm glad I didn't go -- I don't think I could have handled a wedding interrupted by seven or eight hours of powerboating -- but an invite would have been nice.

I spent the weekend walking the dog and practicing my weapons drills in the garden. Pretty cool, pretty relaxed. My parents bought me steak for tea as a thank you, which was neat.

#

On Sunday I was possessed by a story. The idea has been floating around my head for a year or so, but this weekend it suddenly demanded to be written. I hate it when this happens. I was walking into Salcs at the time and couldn't think of anything else, all the way there and all the way back. It took me over to the extent that I blanked a couple of people I should really have spoken with.

So that's my next project. I don't like to be influenced by stories in such a fashion -- stories shouldn't be allowed to bully you into letting them jump the queue -- but I know that if I don't write it, then I'll forget all of the good things I thought of on the walk back from town.