The end of a trying week. I had two almost sleepless nights - about as many as I usually have in a year. But... I have finally embarked on a second sample chapter for the new (proposed) Mike Pannett book. 1200 words this afternoon in a shade under three hours. (Must check them Monday morning to see that they aren't pure gibberish.) I have also lined up eight or ten extracts from Toad's Road-Kill Café, ready to for release on the blog while I’m away. I hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot, giving away what will amount to 20% of the whole, but... once more I remind myself that I write primarily to be read; and that I am in the fortunate position of having enough income from the Pannett books to stay afloat for the next year or two at least.
Looking out of the window, I am struggling to believe what I’m seeing out there: it’s stopped raining and the sun is shining. Not in our garden, exactly, but there is a shaft or two falling on the hillside away to the south. This has been such a hideous spell of weather. Who knows, maybe it is coming to an end. I have 19 days left in which to sow my peas, leeks, wallflowers, spinach, parsnips, broccoli, cabbage, parsley, courgette (zucchini if you prefer) and a row of asters - plus one or two other subjects, I dare say. After all this rain, there’s no way I’ll be able to sow anything until the middle of next week. We need sun, but more importantly wind, to dry things out.
Well, well, well… as the Bedouin fellow said when he came across three waterholes in the Sahara. Would you adam and eve** it? Between sentences the sun has gone back in and it’s CHUCKING it down.
This is the weekend of A’s retirement party, and she’s having a ceilidh, complete with four-piece band and caller. I think we’re expecting 130 guests - colleagues from work, friends, family. Several are staying here tomorrow night, so there’s no more postponing the dreaded housework. I shall put away my 1200 words, shake a fist at the heavens, and get out the vacuum cleaner.
**adam and eve? Believe.