desperance, sir, I bow beneath your chariot wheels. Name your cake!
In other news, at least the eternal emo book is finished. Yay. Now I can think about something else, though no doubt it will now need re-writing. The sun is shining, we are surrounded by early modern splendour and I am on holiday with only one skirt. (Long velevet and lace and so on burgundy.) The marquis scents castles ahead and is growing restive... I must away. Be good out there.