Writing is Dangerous

I like Saturday mornings. I get up, fetch the papers, make breakfast and a pot of tea and sit and read in my dressing gown. Bliss.

This morning I thought I’d make soup at the same time. Great time management. Until…

I cut a snippet out of the paper and went into my office to add it to a folder of research on Early Melbourne. Then I sat down in front of the computer. Then thought I’d just start a review, just put the title etc down. But I began writing the review and then a second.

Oops, the smell of soup wafted through from the kitchen. Hmm. Not a good soup smell, a burning-a-hole-in-the-saucepan smell. Oh dear. I’ve decanted the soup into another saucepan and put out the ‘fire’ in the pan. Only time will tell if the burn has added a frisson of smoky flavour to the soup or an inedible charcoalness.

Lucky I wasn’t working on a novel…the pan may indeed have melted and…

As I said, writing is dangerous.

2 thoughts on “Writing is Dangerous

  1. Don't you hate that. It is great being focused, but you do shut the world out. My son set fire to the kitchen last year, making chips while working on the computer.


  2. Yeah. I swear I only planned to leave the room for a second.

    But at least the soup was edible if slightly smoky in flavour! And I still have my kitchen…chip fires can be very nasty. Much damage?


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