Old-Fashioned Fruitcake
In my efforts to create a historical novel which will not cause informed readers to recoil in educated disgust, I have been looking into a number of different things. Most recently:
the death of the Romanovs (with a suspiciously heavy 17 lb. cushion)
naphthalene
Raffles (the gentleman thief, not the hotel)
Black Ascot
Pekinese (crossed with a poodle = a peekapoo)
IQ (disturbing eugenic history there)
and rubber ducks.
Did you know that from 1904, drivers in the UK had to get a license to drive legally – but they didn’t have to pass any kind of test to get that license for another thirty years?
Continue & Comment
No, Restoration Day isn’t being filmed. (As far as I know. Being, as it is, under a CC-BY-SA license, my permission – or indeed, awareness – would not be required.) But I am taking part in a documentary about people in the Wellington region doing NaNoWriMo.
The documentary is being made by Hidden Flamingo Films – and no, I don’t yet know why they’re called that. I have met both documentary makers (lovely people) and I can confirm that neither of them is a flamingo. In fact, I haven’t seen any sign of a flamingo. Presumably, of course, because it is a hidden flamingo, and doing very well at its self-appointed task in life.
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