GHOSTLY GALLEON

Out of the blue, a cheque for a batch of stories I'd had published under various nom plumages and handled by an agent pal sworn to secrecy.

It's a vanity: many of the selecting editors are pals (of varying intensity) from my book days and I have this cock-eyed belief that they will accept or reject accordingly.

Also, my most successful coups are under womanly names - whatever that tells you about me; I've stopped trying to figure - and I *know* from my publishing days this played a huge factor and we were very sulky when he/she turned out to be the other.

I took a fistful of notes to my local camera expert and said i was fed up with feeding my current toy with fresh batteries every half hour - give me something proper.

So he suggested the Coolpix 14.5 and ordered an English manual from Athens.

I still haven't read the whole thing and I'm sure am under-using it like I still only use a fraction of Excel, but it works very nicely.

I'd gone out with the guitar to a new bar, found it impossible to strum on tsi-tsi birra alone when all about me were swaying on goblets of Wild Grouse.

So I came back and took Sam for a minuit jaunt which he loves, loves. Makes him feel like a hunter and also he has this game of stalking me - running off to leave me padding thru the undergrowth by torchlight, then leaping out with barks and growls:

"See? See? You coulda been an Albanian intruder - I'd've had your arm off, canines embedded in yer wedding tackle ... don't pretend. You had no idea I was tracking you. Merged with night in my black velveteen Bat Dog schmutter. Followed you by stealth. Very big on stealth, I am. "

Me: Don't DO that! [canine giggle and tale wag] - God u scared me [grunt of joy as I fondle him] ... dude, almost had a heart attack.

GOOD boy ! Very good boy. That's why we sleep so sound at night, knowing you're there on the battlements ..."

Wag grunt paw snuffle: "I know I know. You guys couldn't handle the truth."

Cut to the chaise longue, I noticed the moon and went get my camera which was lousy on the flash so I turned it off and got these lovely shots. Lovely for me.

Somehow, sans any light but the moon's, I got the plantery in (top pic; there's another but I goffed and didn't include it) which looks as if painted on canvas.

I sometimes wonder if I don't post just for the more excellent comments, many of which I don't publish because they are badly crafted abuse, or they are intimate communications from people I'll never meet.

Others are gems such as BadAss Sinbad's or the impeccably tasted Wells sahib with his precise choice of music.