Final Destination

Day 03 – by the time we got back to our Travelodge, after driving through an apt place called Loggerheads, it was 4:10am. And we couldn’t sleep because it was too cold. Eventually, at some point, we got up and put our hoodies on and eventually fell asleep about 7:30am. We were up by 9, ready to visit Conwy Castle. As it was our last day, we wanted to see another castle before we went home. Thoroughly knackered and with Ryan on a nicotine withdrawal, we headed for Conwy. We were tempted to wind Ryan up, taking full advantage of no cigarette crankiness then filming his meltdown and posting it on NHS stop smoking sites, but seeing as he didn’t film ours on the the way to Ruthin, we decided to be good mates and stop at some services for him to buy fags. The petrol station was deserted. Think creepy, horror film, place with filled zombies snacking on the cashier type deserted. It was brilliantly atmospheric. Naturally, we let Ryan go in alone and got the cameras ready for his bloody, screaming exit.

We drove into the Little Chef car park and saw a sign that would lighten the weariest of hearts – FREE WI FI! We rushed in, set up our laptop and started taking advantage, all the while trying to ignore the waitress and pretending we hadn’t decided what to eat. Feeling bad, we eventually asked her if the chips were vegan. She kindly went to check and assured us they were, so we ordered some. So fellow vegans, if you want vegan chips, Little Chef is fine. There’s also a vegan cafe in Bettws-y-Coed and a vegan chip shop in Llandudno, but we didn’t have time to check those places out. Ryan decided to keep us entertained by tripping over our laptop wire and very nearly face planted in his search for salt. He really didn’t have to go to the trouble, but you know what some people are like – always have to play the clown. Turned out, the salt was on our table. Oops 😀

Just as we left, we were topping up the Mini’s oil when Cat suddenly remembered something – we’d forgotten to pay! The waitress didn’t ask for a bill and because we were served at the table, we completely forgot. We sent Ryan back in with some cash and when he came out, he claimed the cops had been called. As we pulled out of the car park, there was a police car parked. We fled the scene.

We reached Conwy Castle without getting lost. Cities crumbled, civilisations collapsed and the gods fell to their knees with the shock. The only problem was, we’d come on marathon day and there was nowhere to park. If there are any types of festivals, big events, or marathons, guaranteed, we will unwittingly pick that day to visit that town’s castle. It’s a gift. We eventually parked by the harbour, but after Lynx had done an amazing long reverse down the road, finishing the move with a flawless parallel park beside a wall, we realised something – Ryan & Cat couldn’t get out the passenger side. Ryan attempted to slide across into the driver’s seat, but because we’re so short, we have the seat pumped right up and forwards, so he got wedged under the steering wheel. Sensing an opportunity, Lynx, who was already out, started filming, while Cat, who was trapped in the back, started taking photos. So we have footage and action shots of Ryan having to crawl out of the car, ending up on his knees in the road. We texted our mum so she could update Twitter & Facebook, Ryan’s humiliation going global. It was a defining moment of the holiday.

Ryan demonstrating how NOT to leave a car

Conwy Castle is beautiful and another contender for our base in the Zombie Apocalypse. Apparently, it was our favourite when we were kids and we used to run along the walkways, as opposed to now, when we hold on to the walls for dear life. Though walking up to the castle from the harbour was dangerous. We had to go up a narrow, two-way road, with no pavements, under a castle bridge that acted as a chicane. How we didn’t die is a mystery that only Sam and Dean Winchester can solve.

Conwy Castle

As much as we hate heights, we can’t leave any area of the castle unexplored, so insisted on going all the way to the top again. We were rewarded in one tower by seeing pigeons and their chick in one of the tower walls. We waited ages, perched near the edge of the tower, for the chick to make an appearance. It was worth the vertigo & sheer terror.

After Conwy, we decided to head for home, as the light was failing us. Though before we left the beauty that is North Wales, we wanted to show Ryan Denbigh Asylum, the setting for our novel, Soul Asylum. For those of you who remember the pointless eight hour road trip we took last year to see it from behind the gates, you’ll be pleased to know, this year, the gates were open. But the asylum was fenced off, with demolition notices all over the gates. This was our final chance to see the asylum up close before it was torn down to make way for flats. Though we’d been warned about the nasty caretaker who lives next door, we had to seize this chance. We walked in. Unfortunately, the driveway is at least one hundred metres long and we’d only got about thirty metres away from the asylum when a guy shouted, asking what we were doing. Fearing it was the nasty caretaker, we explained we were just having a look. Luckily, it was a nice guy, who explained he didn’t mind, but the other guy did and was on his way – with a dog. And we’d forgotten to load Ryan’s pockets with meaty treats to ensure our safe getaway. He kindly let us take a few pictures before escorting us off the grounds. As we got into our car, the other caretaker arrived. We drove sedately away, acting like we hadn’t been inside the gates. Though we will never accomplish our dream of getting inside the asylum, we got as close to it as we’ll get ever get and the thrill of being so close to all that history, will stay with us.

Denbigh Asylum



Day 2/3 – the ghost hunt. When we eventually found our way into Ruthin Gaol, everyone cheered. We hurried into the corner, cracked open a Red Bull and tried to swallow our fury. Didn’t want everyone thinking we were rageoholics. Though the shaking hands, demonic glares and muttered curses might have given it away. The group did some energy exercises. By this point we’d all calmed down and were back on speaking terms. One exercise involved standing in threes and using your energy to push the person in the middle. We couldn’t help sneakily physically pushing each other and pretending the ghosts did it. Then we were taken on a tour of the gaol, whilst our guide, Karen, told us about its history. Saying we were excited would be an understatement. We were in an old gaol, ten o’clock at night, on a ghost hunt. We were living the dream. We were all ushered into the dark cell, a punishment cell where prisoners were kept in the pitch dark for hours, days, even weeks. Some of them went mad and were shipped off to Denbigh Asylum. Prisoners weren’t allowed to talk to each other at all and the vents in their cells were positioned so they couldn’t communicate through the walls. We went into a cell which was set up how it was back then, with a thin bed on the floor and no furniture. The mannequin looked very depressed, yet fetching in his grey arrow print pyjamas. Making a note to see if they sold them in the gift shop, we moved on. There was a laundry cell for the women prisoners to work, a bath cell with a large iron bath (they shared bath water, so bad luck if you were 15th in line for a bath) and the warden’s office. When we were left alone we took turns to climb into the bath. It was really deep. It was a shame we’d never fit it in the Mini. It would make a really nice feature in our house.

Upstairs held a modern cell, a cell dedicated to the second world war (the prison had closed by then but they made ammunition here) and the best cell of all – the condemned cell. The minute Karen said we could wander, we were in that cell like chocoholics on a chocolate cake. Everyone else on the tour was sedate. They seemed more fitting ambling round an art gallery than exploring the hidden horrors of an abandoned jail. The two floors above us held the other cells, which now hold the archives for the prison and the asylum, so we weren’t allowed up there. After a break, we were split into two groups. Our group went upstairs, where we had to hold a circle of rope and imagine energy going round the circle, to encourage the ghosts closer. It was hard keeping our concentration because we were desperate to explore the jail some more. That and because we have the concentration span of three year olds. It was also hard standing still, because if we stand still for longer than a few minutes, we have a tendency to faint and after being embarrassingly late, fainting on a ghost hunt was the last thing we wanted. The guide tried encouraging a boy ghost to stand between us. He must’ve known we’re not keen on children because he refused. We were glad. Children are germy. We then had to picture a blank canvas in the hope the ghosts would put pictures on there. It didn’t work. Cat was imagining Red Bull, while Lynx was imagining the asylum from Nightmare On Elm Street 5 – Dream Child. Ryan’s canvas was black, which we’re sure hints at serial killer tendencies. The ghosts definitely didn’t put those images there. When we opened our eyes, the rope had lifted at two points, one where our tour guide was and the other on the other side of the circle. The rope where we held it, stayed down low, except between Cat and Ryan, but that was down to Cat fidgeting and trying not to pass out.

K2 meter

After another break, we took some equipment to conduct our own investigations. We took a K2 meter, two rods and a pendant. We headed straight for the dark cell and closed the door before the other guests had even left the kitchen. After messing around with the rods for a bit and asking the ghosts to touch Ryan disrespectfully, we decided to take it seriously and ask the ‘ghost’ some questions. We had our camcorder and voice recorders switched on, the camcorder trained on the K2. The first few questions got no response. Then Cat asked if the ghost was executed here. The K2 lit up. Then we asked if the ghost murdered anybody. Again the K2 lit up. We asked different questions about who the ghost killed, but got no response. So we asked if the ghost was hanged here. Again, the K2 lit up. When we asked if the murder was accidental, we got nothing. When we asked if it was cold blooded, the K2 went crazy. It seemed to like any questions about murder. Clearly we were among like minded spirits. We were too desperate to see if we got any responses anywhere else, so we left and went around the rest of the jail. Nothing. Not even a flicker. We’re not saying it was proof of anything, we just can’t explain it. Here’s the link: We shut ourselves in the condemned cell, but didn’t get any response. We returned to the dark cell, but this time, there was nothing. After another break, we went with the other group leader, who was assigning cells to everyone to go in. He pointed at us and said ‘dark cell’. We cheered and hurried in.

We stood around, talking to the ghost, teasing each other and enjoying the experience. At one point we could hear the guides getting excited about a door closing and asking the ghosts to do it again. We decided not to admit that it was Ryan who closed the door. We didn’t want to spoil their excitement or admit that our party were responsible. No ghosts, just over eager ghost hunters shutting themselves in the dark. We were then released for good behaviour and sat in the corridor watching green lasers that had been set up. The guide believed the lasers going dark was ghosts playing with them. We suspected faulty batteries because after he switched them off for a while, they then came back on stronger. They told us the lift had moved and so had a door handle, after we’d all gone into our cells. We couldn’t help but be suspicious especially because the only ones who appeared to be experiencing anything were the two council workers who’d organised the event. At one point we walked into the munitions room where a lady was standing in the corner talking to a ghost and assuring it we weren’t going to hurt them. We edged out. You know what it’s like when you walk in on a conversation. Awkward.

us doing the vigil in the condemned cell

C.A.T.S Cardiff's Answer To Supernatural doing the vigil in the condemned cell

During each break everyone would gather in the kitchen. We were always the last ones to arrive because the guides had to keep fetching us from the cells. For the last hour they said we would be locked in a cell and asked who wanted to stay in the condemned cell. Our hands shot up. Some people laughed nervously. The guide asked us if we were sure. We responded with an enthusiastic “Hell yeah!” and leapt up. Ryan didn’t get a say in the matter. We sat on the cushion in the condemned cell in pitch blackness. They locked the door. We switched our torches on long enough to hold them under our chins and pull frightening faces at each other. We asked the ghost questions for the DVR but if they responded we didn’t hear it. Ryan told us we didn’t have to spend the entire hour in the dark and kept switching his torch on. Some people have no sense of adventure. The hour went past way too quickly. We didn’t feel at all uneasy or scared being shut in in the dark in what would’ve been the most terrifying cell in the prison. We felt perfectly relaxed and just thoroughly enjoyed the experience of being there. Maybe we’re just more comfortable with the dead than the living. The living frighten us more than the dead ever could.

When the hour was up, we were fetched. Turned out we were the only ones left in the prison. Apart from the K2 getting over excited when asked about murder we had no paranormal experience. We did however have an amazing time and definitely recommend it. We’re planning our next ghost hunting trip already. As we were travelling back to our Travelodge at 3:30 am the road was covered in mist so thick we couldn’t see where we were going. So if there were any ghosts roaming the roads, we probably ran them down. We only got lost once. Think that might have been Ryan’s fault.

Lost in Translation

Day 2 – Nov 19th

We spent last night cheating at Monopoly – NB. If you ever play Monopoly with us, we cheat. Every game. Be warned. Then we watched Seven. One of our favourite films.

Caernarfon Castle

We started the day full of hope and plans. Then realised we’d left our makeup at home. Now we’re not the kind of girls who won’t leave the house without makeup. On the contrary. Half the time we can’t even be arsed to wear it. Might wear it once or twice a week. But we were on holiday, appearing in video and photo footage. And we’re vegan so we couldn’t just nip out and buy whatever was around. We had no Internet. Our mum came to the rescue, locating places that sold Barry M makeup and giving us directions. So we started the day much later than we planned after getting lost in Bangor trying to find a Superdrug. Eventually made it to Caernarfon castle. North Wales has an amazing knack of only displaying road signs on one route into wherever you’re going and this always happened to be not on the route we were travelling. We made it to the castle. It’s stunning and perfect for the Zombie Apocalypse. We were there for 2 hours, exploring every inch. After a Red Bull break, we decided to head for Anglesey. We made it to Holyhead then got lost around the coastal path trying to find what we thought was Penhros Feliw castle and turned out to be a couple of standing stones in the middle of a field with very suspicious horses. Then we eventually found some Hut circles. A lot of Hut circles to be precise, still intact. We didn’t have time to go anywhere else as we had to be at the Ruthin Gaol tour by 9:30 so we headed towards Halkyn at the other end of North Wales. And got lost. Very lost. Turned out the Halkyn Travelodge wasn’t actually in Halkyn. After taking the wrong junction (Ryan’s fault, again) we wandered the lonely country lanes trying to find our way back to the A55. Couldn’t get back on it, like it was a magical road that just disappeared. When we did find our way back to it, we were pointing in the wrong direction. Then we got stuck behind what we suspect was a drunk driver doing 25 in a 40 zone, windscreen wipers on despite there being no rain and his car was misted up. Every time an oncoming car, he braked to practically a standstill. Tensions were rising, time was running out. We made it there at 7:10pm.

Our mum nagged us to leave the Travelodge by 8 to make sure we made it to the Gaol. But we’d printed off an AA route planner and it said the journey would take 31 mins. Plus we had detailed directions from the route planner so as usual we ignored our mum’s advice and left at about 8:50. By 9:35 pm we were hopelessly lost and miles from Ruthin Gaol. The route planner told us to go right. The sign pointed left. It told us to take a right at first set of traffic lights and we’d come to a roundabout half a mile away. Two miles later, down a dark country lane, there was still no roundabout. Tension in the car was reaching critical. Our tour was at stake. Had to phone our mum and get her to find a number for Beyond the Grave to tell them we would be late. Horribly, horribly late. Ryan got out and asked some drunken church goers for directions. Turned out, AA route planner meant turn right at first traffic lights in Mold. They’d missed an entire village off their route plan. Cat drove like an F1 pro. Ryan spent most of the North Wales trip claiming her driving scares the shit out of him. After her epic driving to reach the Gaol, we’re lucky he got back in the car. We told him safe sensible driving through the holiday would be boring. This kind of driving would make his heart race. For some reason he wasn’t at all grateful about the adrenaline rush. On the way we passed a place called Loggerheads. It couldn’t have been more apt. By now the tension in the car had reached explosion imminent. Lynx was shouting and swearing so much nearby sailors phoned their mothers to apologise. Cat just concentrated on not moving down pedestrians. Ryan was planning his funeral.

We made it to the Gaol at 10 pm. By this point, the silence amongst the party was heavily loaded. The friendship was fracturing. Lynx was furious, her rage causing natural disasters in several countries. Cat was praising herself on her driving skills at top speed through those bendy country lanes without crashing. Ryan was just thankful to still be breathing. We walked in to the Gaol and everyone cheered. The host told us to have a coffee to get over being lost. We cracked open a Red Bull and prepared to spend the night in an abandoned, haunted Gaol.

Long Road to Ruin

Day 1 – Nov 18th

Well… where do we start? We left our house at 9 am ready for our great paranormal adventure. Three hours in, we were totally lost. Several miles off course and heading back to somewhere in Mid Wales. Not only were we lost but to get to where we were, we had to wait at road work traffic lights for 15 minutes then be taken through the road works by a convoy vehicle. Like the safety car in F1. Then we had to turn around and wait at the other end of the traffic lights to be taken back through by the bloody safety car. We also got stuck behind numerous lorries and buses (one lorry doing 13 mph!) and because North Wales is full of mountainous A roads, you can’t overtake. SIX hours after we left home, we arrived in Beddgelert. The POA was go to Beddgelert then Caernarfon castle. But the light failed us. So we went to Gelert’s grave then sat in the Prince Llewelyn pub for a while. They had free Wi-Fi. Cheering, we hurried back to the car to fetch our laptop so we could connect to the internet. Except the Wi-Fi failed. Our mum was receiving dictated texts to update FB and Twitter for us in between caring for our animal army.

And then what happened when we finally made it to Bangor? We got lost. Hopelessly, utterly, embarrassingly LOST. Stopped at a chip shop to ask for directions. We blamed our navigator, Ryan. Men just can’t read maps. After following the chippie owner’s directions, we ended up even more lost and down some dark country lane in the middle of…hell, we have NO idea. Eventually made it to the Travelodge at 6:30. What did we accomplish in 9 and a half hours? Visiting a dog’s grave. Wonderful.

Reject Bin

Last week was a productive week – we submitted a short story every day for National Short Story week and we submitted Majesty of Darkness to seven agents – one for every day of the week. This week, have we had an acceptance for every day? No. We’ve had a rejection for every day. First from an agent then two short stories. Today is yet to bring an unpleasant surprise. Sometimes we wonder why do this. What other job consists of trying your best, only to have your work bounced back to you telling you it wasn’t what your boss was looking for? Then it stings you further by not paying you for all those hours of work. But we can’t give up. One, the unwritten stories in our treasure chests of our minds won’t let us and two, the only difference between published writers and unpublished writers is that the unpublished writers gave up.

We’re also considering self publishing one or two of our novels as e books, so we’ve been emailing editors for quotes. While we’ll never give up on the dream of holding our published books (and braining any would-be burglars with them), we always vowed to be published authors before we’re 30. Actually, the original plan was to de-throne Stephen King by the time we’re 30, but we realise now it was a tad ambitious. So instead of having his throne and crown, we’ll settle for making our own thrones and placing them beside his. *Squinting* might need to move his a little to the left…*stepping back* perfect!

So in order to achieve the more attainable dream, self e publishing is looking very attractive. We’ve downloaded David Gaughran’s book, Let’s Get Digital and it’s really inspiring us. He stresses the importance of getting your work professionally edited, hence our search for editors. Our mum is really good at spotting errors and pointing out our mistakes, but it doesn’t hurt to have a second opinion. The last thing we’d want are poor reviews because the work isn’t edited properly. Even if we decide not to go with e publishing just yet, it would be good to know our work is as good as we can make it.

We’ll be heading off on our North Wales trip tomorrow to look at the beautiful castles up there and of course, to do the Ruthin gaol ghost hunt! Five hours, overnight, in a gaol that’s supposedly haunted by a pissed off warden and executed inmates. Is there a better way to spend the weekend? No! Well, not unless it involves Wentworth Miller and a big bowl of ice cream, but for now, this is as exciting as it gets. We’re taking our laptop (it’s bad enough being separated from our animal army for three days, we can’t be without our other love) so we can write a ghost story while we’re high on the excitement of ghosts, haunted jails and too much Red Bull. We’ll post pics on our return. Unless something happens and we end up as permanent tourists in the haunted gaol…*Practising spooky voices* welcome to the dark side. We have cookies.

Agents 007

We’ve finally done something we’ve been debating about for ages. No, we haven’t yet managed to track down a real life vampire to turn us. So if anyone knows of one… 😀 We’ve done something far scarier – submitted a novel to an agent. Actually, 7 agents. This week has been busy. As well as NaNoWriMo (currently just passed 30,000 word mark) we’ve been celebrating National Short Story Week by submitting a different short story to a different horror magazine every day this week. Then yesterday we sent Majesty of Darkness to seven different agents. Well we figured 11/11/11 was supposed to really lucky so we decided to capitalise on it. Unfortunately we ran out of time to do spells. Though judging by the last two mishaps we’ve had involving fire spells, maybe that’s just as well. Note to selves – stay. the. hell. away. from. fire. Why do we never learn? Anyhoo, we’d spent hours reading a blog post about agents, what they do, how to submit, covering letter, synopsis etc and when our brains were well and truly frazzled, we made a short list then researched those agents before selecting seven to send to. 4 were happy to receive email submissions, 3 wanted postal entries. Wondering now whether we should pick 7 more and boot Soul Asylum out into the big bad world, seeing as next weekend we’ll once again be visiting the abandoned North Wales asylum where the book is set. Would love to get inside it. Wonder if they’ve removed the guard dog signs yet…if not, really hope Ryan can run fast. Not too fast though, we want to enjoy it 😉

Our NaNoWriMo stats reckon we’ll hit our 50,000 word target by November 18th, which is the day we’ll be heading up to North Wales to do an overnight ghost tour in an abandoned jail. What is it with us and abandoned haunted places? We’re drawn to them like zombies to brains. We’re hoping to reach our target on the 17th so we can enjoy our three days away without worrying about winning. We don’t want to make our stats out to be a liar. Its reputation might never recover.

Scare Department

We’re thrilled to announce Draven Ames has published another of our stories on his blog. This one is Field of Screams, which won Writing Magazine’s ghost story competition and is currently our NaNoWriMo novel 🙂 well, it’s still a work in progress. We’ve just finished Chapter 8 and are ahead of word count target. So you can get a taster of our novel in the short story version. it’s a supernatural comedy so nobody gets gloriously butchered like in The Black Kiss. Hacking people up can get so samey 😀 But we hope you enjoy it anyway. If not, reading it was just a terrible nightmare and you’ve never heard of C L Raven. We’re figments of your twisted imaginations 😉

Murder, We Wrote

Mostly we’ve been pretty calm recently but it’s inevitable that a rant would break out sooner or later. Surprised it’s been so long. We rant like it’s a lost art form. You might need some ear plugs *taking deep breath and cracking knuckles.* Two words. First word, 3 syllables. No wait, this only works when you can see us miming. Scrap that. Two words. PRETENTIOUS. WRITERS. Even reading those words back is making our eyes twitch and our fingers curl with rage. You know the type we mean. They write for the prestige of writing. Because they think it’s glamorous, because they want the lifestyle of sitting in a perfect office sipping red wine, listening to classical music and gazing at the singing birds in the cherry tree whilst not actually doing any writing. They seem to think that’s what writing’s all about. It’s not. Murder She Wrote LIED TO US! We regularly visit different places. NOT ONCE have we’ve got to participate in a murder investigation! In fact, no-one’s ever died on one of our adventures, much to our raging disappointment. The only way we’d get to participate in a murder investigation would be if we were the ones responsible for it! And trust us, if you’ve been with us when we’re stuck behind time burglars or screaming toddlers, you know we’re capable of contributing to the rising body count in Government statistics. But we’re going to use this opportunity to unmask Jessica Fletcher for the cold, calculated murderess she is. She writes murder mystery books. Everywhere she goes there’s a murder mystery. Has the sheriff actually read her novels? If he had, he’d see the murders closely resemble her plots. She’s not writing murder mystery fiction – she’s writing her autobiography! :O

Hang on, as usual in a rant we’ve gone off track. Now that we’ve exposed Jessica Fletcher as a wanton killer, back to the subject matter. Aw crap she’s going to come after us now isn’t she? *sighing* hey she’s old we’ll just push her over in some snow, break her hip. Writing isn’t glamorous. It’s sitting in front of a computer playing with your imaginary friends, trying to cut out all those random images from your head, splatter them across the page and hope it makes sense to someone who can’t see inside your twisted imagination. We don’t have an office. We either write sitting on our front room settee being harassed by the cats or sitting  in our cold summer house. Which is basically a posh shed with carpet and Halloween decorations. No we’re not taking them down. Again, usually sharing with one of the cats and watching our duck. Instead of classical music we listen to My Chemical Romance and instead of red wine we drink Red Bull. Genius does suffer without Red Bull. *looking round for sponsors* What’s it going to take for them to sponsor us?

There’s no money in it. You spend hours, weeks, months, slaving over your work for no pay. There is no minimum wage for writers. People don’t understand that when you’re writing, you’re working. They think they can interrupt you constantly because you’re at home all day doing nothing. Just because writing doesn’t come with a P45 and a pension doesn’t mean it’s not work. It can be soul destroying when rejection after rejection comes flooding in. Luckily rejections don’t bother us. It just means the story can go elsewhere. Writing’s in our blood. We HAVE to write. We spend all day living in an imaginary fantasy land with little human contact. It’s the greatest job in the world! 🙂

We’re doing a ghost walk tonight so if you don’t hear from us for a while you know the spirits got us. How cool would it be to be ghosts? Think of the people we could harass? Think of the hot guys we could stalk without danger of getting caught! Think of the…wait. We can’t take over the world if we’re ghosts. There’s just no respect for the dead these days 😦


And we’re off! Started turning Field of Screams into a novel for NaNoWriMo this morning. As you can see by the pic, Red Bull and cauldron shaped shortbread biscuits we made helped enormously. Did a workout in our attic gym to keep minds and bodies awake then started work at 10:30. By 12 we had 2185 words done. Already beaten our target! Not only beaten, but completely pulverised. If it was a person, we’d be up on assault charges 😀 Then had to take a massive break to see our psychologist, do some shopping, rant at the empty Tesco photo desk because we’d done our photos then couldn’t process them because there was no staff there. Ranted at the kiosk guy then muttered curses all the way home. Then it was time to give the iguana his bath. But we’re back at work now. Well one of us is. The other one is on here, swearing at Facebook because the photo upload is totally crap and if FB isn’t careful, it will be sent a handmade glitter bomb. Yeah let’s see how joyous they are picking glitter out of their keyboards.

Anyhoo, good luck to everyone taking part in NaNoWriMo. We’re doing a ghost walk on Friday. What better way to celebrate the first week of writing a ghost novel? Hopefully we’ll see some ghosts. We don’t believe in ghosts but really want to see one. We’re weird like that. Maybe we can grope and assault others people in the group and blame it on the ghosts. Don’t tell anyone what we’re planning otherwise they won’t believe us. Better start practising our innocent expressions.