Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

I'm cheerfully halfway into my bedtime read of the moment: Glass Books of the Dream Eaters.  The vile cabal is being vile and our unlikely heroes are having a tough time of it.  And there's plenty of delicious smut and vertiginous peril and weird science, which is pretty much exactly what I want from a bedtime read.

Now, ankaret, 'fess up: When did you write this?  Because if you didn't, someone's got a bug in your skull.  (And am I a bad person for identifying this as, in fact, a game diary, run by your fair hand, with katebush playing Chang, aldric playing Miss Temple and, I fear, me playing Dr. Svenson?)

The cheek of it!

So I'm in JJBs buying my payday toy - a skipping rope for warmups, the proper job with a leather rope and cartridge bearings (that run smoother than my bikes), so you can go so fast that if you didn't have bearings the leather would catch fire and smell of bacon.  Rocky Balboa seal of approval, comes with a voucher that gets you two-for-one on litres of man-sweat and blunt force trauma.

The fine young filly behind the desk indicates some gumshields and suggests that I might like to make my purchase complete by buying one. 

"It's just for warm-ups," I explain.  "I don't box."

"Oh, I know that.  It's just so's you don't knock yer teeth out when you trip over!"

Young people today, no respect!