It’s been a funny sort of week.
It began with moving house, and somewhere in the middle I was struck down with a stomach bug. I discovered the epic sandwiches of Scoffs in Bath, started working day and evening shifts, and started to plan my birthday celebrations.
This did not leave a lot of time for writing.
But now, buoyed up on chocolate tiffin (as well as a great many cooked breakfast scraps filched between dining room and kitchen) I am crouching in my basement den, writing the second half of ‘Previous Engagements’.
There’s nothing quite like writing a romance with the scent of drain cleaner clinging to you, and a broken heart wedged in your chest.
(Yes, I am now single, and approaching that rather agreeable state in between total desolation and being ‘A OK’ in which you begin to realise how lucky you are to no longer to be tethered to someone whose decision making skills you can’t quite understand)
Thankfully, the Hen Party that has been terrorising the hotel has now left, which leaves me with a good chance of not being disturbed while I’m on night duty (two nights ago they wrenched the front door lock off – how, I am still not quite sure).
I’ve also just returned from the other side of town, lugging with me a few of my forgotten worldly goods in a very disagreeable wheelie suitcase. (Important things like lentils, shoes and my lone styling brush).
So – off to write…