Saturday, 16 April 2011

Duck, duck, duck, goose...

A duck and her ducklings walk onto a court at the Wimbledon

I our house all things duck rule. My son's first word quack has led me to look up every available duck pond in Worcestershire. You can be sure, we have visited them all. It's funny what I once saw as what is for supper, or a plastic toy in the tub, has now begun creeping into other aspects of my life.

Driving down the M5 yesterday I received a full assault, by duck, as this dear son launched his collections of quacking toys into the front seat pelting me. 'Quack! Quack! The captain directed orders to his crew. It seriously scared the wits out of me.

Now the ducks have crept into my writing. The ducks have tripped main characters when the have gone on first dates, snuck into homes and soiled furnishings with sentimental value, and they have invaded the chef's kitchen...

So what is sneaking it's way into your writing this week?

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