Preserving Passion Chapter 4

In the interests of preserving family harmony rather than passion (because my mother rings me up and says 'have you written another chapter yet? Write another chapter!' as if I were not trying to make the garden habitable and make enough money to live on as well chiz chiz), here is chapter 4 of Preserving Passion. It is a chapter with a strong moral tone and a warning to those of you who mix your drinks, and if Kahlua and Barley Wine becomes fashionable I would like you to remember that you read it here first.

Preserving Passion Chapter 3

You see, you thought I would give up but I haven't, so now Aunty Kath will have something to read in case it is quiet while she is in the shop tomorrow. So for those of you who are following Chardonnay's tortured path towards true love, arguing about where things are in the fridge and walking round Homebase looking at laminate flooring (run, Chardonnay! Run!), you click on the read more, and for the rest of you, I will try to find something intelligent to post next week. I will try but I may fail but the trying surely counts for something.

Preserving Passion: Chapter Two

I am painting the kitchen so no intelligent blog post or piccies but here is the next chapter in the saga in case anyone is interested. You will note that a certain personal obsession may have been introduced, I think this is often why people write books, so they can bore on about their interests in a sneaky way. Also those of you who understand Nature, especially the lovely readers who have followed me from Ish, will note that I have absolutely no clue as to what might be found in a field in February. This is because I am wussy and urban but, as extensively documented elsewhere, I am sorting out the garden so soon may have more clue about such things (so bear with, as Miranda's mother says).

Here we go, for those of you who are interested, click on the read more thingy!

I can't believe I've done this rather than cook dinner

Because, now we have no dinner, and that may cast a shadow over the evening. However, first chapter of romance novel below (click on read more thingy, that way those of you who aren't interested don't have to be bothered with Chardonnay!). I can't think of a title - it ought to be Preserving Something, but the only thing I can think of that would alliterate is Preserving Purity, and that is, like, 360 degrees absolutely not the point. Anyway, here we go.

And I can't fight this feeling anymore. I've forgotten what I started fighting for

February is coming up and our thoughts turn to romance.

Mine do, certainly, because I have just cleaned the bathroom in my usual resentful manner and I have had the following realisation. Partner and I have been together 13 years (how?!), during which, my cleaning bathrooms toll is at least, wait for it, 650. And Partner’s is, wait for it, 0. 0! And I have read Germaine Greer! I swear he doesn’t even know where we keep the clean towels. I swear he doesn’t. Anyway. That is not what this blog post is about, no. It is about romance novels.

Not an engagement ring because, astonished though you may be to hear this, no-one has ever shown the slightest desire to marry me. I know!

A while ago, the Gingerbread Lady who is very funny, waves to Gingerbread Lady, posted about a romance novel she was reading which she had intended to give her mother but which had turned out to be slightly more explicit, which makes me think of the time my cousin Kerry lent my mother a novel featuring an unfortunate scene with a courgette which we have never referred to since. (I am having an argument with someone over email about my apparently ‘random’ use of commas, and, reading the last sentence back, I am indeed wondering if I have punctuated it in the absolute optimum way. Do feel free to add a few dots in your head while you are reading it if you feel that would improve things). Well, the Gingerbread Lady was then obviously deluged by excited people wanting to share their thoughts on the subject of romance novels. And this made me think. OK, look, obviously I am a feminist and moreover Trained To Recognise Great Literature. (To recognise it and run away. That's a joke). But I do always kind of want to write a Mills & Boon book. Just to see if I can. Don’t you? Go on, admit it. Yes you do.

Me. Ha ha no. But you're not going to believe this, I've actually got an umbrella just like that (long story). I'm nearly there!

So I’m going to. I’m having trouble thinking of a scenario because all the romance novels I’ve read have been on cattle ranches and things like that, and frankly if I know one end of a cow from another then that’s as much as I know, so I’m not sure I could make a cattle ranch convincing. Or indeed a Bedouin encampment. Or C14 Spain. (Definitely not C14 Spain). And I'm dead certain I can't do anything even remotely explicit because, look, I was discombobulated by pectin (see last post). Anyway I shall ponder and if I manage to get more than two words strung together you’ll all be the first to know because I shall post it on here in installments and people can chip in if they want (although, you know, they have to end up together in the end. There’s a limit to how far you can subvert the genre).

I’m betting really, really strongly that it won’t be as easy as it looks!