I finished my book (the butler did it) and we stretch this last day into all of our favourites bits: coffee in bed, the curtains pulled back on a view that takes in the far hills. A set of tennis before it gets too hot (I lost). A breakfast of green juice, croissants for the kids. There’s always some admin, we did it, I swam, made lunch of leftovers and ate while playing backgammon (I beat him in spectacular fashion, the win of the summer, I couldn’t play again our normal best of three, the after-quiver was too much for me). And then I finished my book by the pool, reading quickly, sometimes it has to be done even with an Agatha Christie, the pages ancient and falling out, the cover stained and peeling. And now here, the last post of the summer, not that it won’t be summer in England but in England I get back to work on a novel I hope and pray and wish and will do practically anything for to get over the line and bought and published because I know and my agent knows it’s a damned fine idea and incredibly it hasn’t been done before. So keep your fingers and toes crossed for me people, it’s a tough publishing world out there and don’t I know it. But that is for Monday and this is today, our last day here. It’s been fun writing these - thanks for reading by the way, have I said that? Thanks so much for reading. It never ceases to amaze me that these minutiae are interesting, or be a mystery which strike home and which wander off unnoticed. I’ve had to stay cool on the rollercoaster of being praised and ignored, it’s been good for me. It occurred to me the other day as the carriage took another hurtling rise and dip that I’d better get used to it, these posts which have become a habit have no end in sight; I might carry them on forever. Why not? That’s the beauty of this place built for writers, we can gabble and be read and it no longer feels as if I’m shouting into the void. People are reading. Hooray! You save me.
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Keep writing dear
Life is in the minutiae ❤️