The first two days were fun. The next two were like wet playtime in an infants school: I was bad tempered and restless, with a bad case of cabin fever. When the snow finally melted enough to take the car out, Dave was as pleased to say goodbye to me at Chesterfield station as I was to be heading off to the fleshpots of London for two days of debauchery and fun i.e. a show and an exhibition with my good friend H.
I recommend them both. Everybody's talking about Jamie was fun and touching and made me think. All Too Human at Tate Britain was stimulating, enriching and educational. Lucien Freud's portraits are stunning, but I'm soooo glad Francis Bacon never asked to paint my portrait.
Back home the sweet peas are making headway.
It's Thursday and we've woken up to snow again. It looks like the temporary variety, which is a good job, as I have to drive to my sax lesson and then to Sheffield to 'babysit' my 11 year old grandson.
I'm still waiting for feedback from two friends on the latest draft of the novel, though a third has got back to me saying she really enjoyed it and only had one or two criticisms. I'm on my way!
This means I have to start the worst of all tasks - trying to squeeze a novel of 88,000 words into a one page synopsis - because that's what literary agents want, bless their little cotton socks.
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