Time zones
Time zones. I don't like them. They are there to annoy.
I suppose I should be honest. If the world revolved around the time zone I was in I wouldn't mind so much: having to think about them would still irritate, but I'd cope. BUT having an editor who lives eight hours behind is just ... well bloody inconvenient. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change her for all the tea in China (hmm...). Let me re-phrase. For all the tea in China - which I would sell and then be able to pay her a vast salary and re-location fee, I'd be daft not to.
Ho hum. It's not going to happen. I can't see the Chinese being so foolish. Although saying that, one of my stories has been 'taken' and put up on a site that might possibly be Chinese.
Anyway. Time zones are not my favourite thing.
Neither are slugs. They keep sqidging through the bottom of the back door and 'frightening the horses'. Treading on a slug in the middle of the night whilst half asleep is not to be recommended.
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