I write too much

I'm assembling "Can we go home now?", "Decoction!" and "Brown Beer" at the moment. It's taking somewhat longer than expected.

I've been at it two days now. (Though I was interrupted this afternoon when we tried to install our new wireless modem. There was a fair bit of shouting, some crawling into dusty corners and then a bit more shouting. About par for the course. We're an excitable bunch, us Pattinsons. The modem still isn't working.) Looks like a third day will be needed. To blame is the forest of articles I've planted on the web. How on earth did I manage to write so much in the last 18 months?

Feel free to guess what any of the other titles might mean. The first correct guess will be rewarded with a copy of the book. Assuming you want to read my unique combination of anger and tedium.

Though the book isn't quite finished, I've already done the front cover for "Can we go home now?". I'm quite pleased with it. If you can tell in which pub the photograph was taken, there's a (what a surprise) free copy of the book for you.