Last night my batty writer went to a party at a Library (a big place full of books like moi!). All these nice people had read bits of moi and wanted to meet HER. Not moi. HER. That stinks.
However what made it OK was that there were crisps and a drink called mulled wine that made my toes warm, and biccies with icing on.
And my bartty writer talked a lot. And then she read a story NOT out of moi (whats going on?) but the people laughed so that must be OK.
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