Sunday 4th August

It is Saturday as I write this, and what a day it has been.  I got down here to Walton on Thursday night, and after copying another batch of CDs onto the laptop and opening the small pile of letters it was soon time for bed.  Friday I had some bits of work to mop up, and then I sat down to write.  I mostly re-read and got the outline of the next two chapters done.  Somehow I couldn’t really settle.  What had seemed a lovely three day break was suddenly looming into a vast amount of time to fill.  Ended up watching far too much TV, choosing the least awful channel to watch.

Saturday morning and the lethargic mood was barely shifting, I read my e-mails and wondered if I would get much writing done today.  Then the phone rang.  The news that had been hovering in the back of my mind all day came through.  Grandchild number eight has been born, and my daughter who had a bit of a rough time with her first was speaking to me.  Much better this time around, and she and my new granddaughter were both doing fine.

I rang my Mum and gave her the happy news, then some frantic texting to friends.  Suddenly the world looked a brighter place.  Went for a nice walk, and just looked at the sea.

Then back and an incredible amount of writing done.  It just seemed to flow; the keys seemed to tap out the story themselves.  Whether it is any good is another matter.  I do re-read as I go along, and no doubt a few amendments will be made, but this bit – the first write is the most exciting.  The story is forming itself, unraveling from some other part of the universe almost.  I sometimes feel that the story I am writing is actually already written somewhere else, I am simply transcribing it.

Also a change in plan.  I am now returning a day early to London.  I need to visit John Lewis for cards and pressies.  As well as grandchild number eight, numbers six and seven also have birthdays coming up this month.  So, I feel good; I have had the best possible news, and also got another chunk of writing done.  What a day.