Letter from home

I am too excited to be in charge of a keyboard right now because Isaac and Wendy and the kids are arriving from the USA today - woo-hoo!

...and here is the quiet news from Hepworth Towers:

Dave has cleared out his yoghurt from the fridge to make room for family supplies. The yoghurt is now residing in a huge, covered, black plastic container on wheels outside the back door. 

Dave snapped it up at Aldi for £15 and because he was so enamoured, he dashed back and bought another one. We are currently arguing over whether he should be allowed to keep his clothes in it. Why did I encourage him to buy a second one?

This takes me back to when we first moved into Hepworth Towers after a warehouse fire had destroyed all our stuff, and we had to refurnish from scratch. I wrote a piece for the Times about it. Here is an excerpt:

It was a case of traditionalist with a penchant for period style meets radical minimalist who thinks that form should always follow function. What possible middle ground in clothes storage is there between someone who wants an Edwardian chest of drawers in satin wood, and someone who prefers a stack of wipe clean plastic boxes ?  

(for full version see here.) 

In other furnishing news, Dave persuaded me to have all my book cover posters framed. He has hung them on the landing and they look very fine. There is not yet a poster for EVEN WHEN THEY KNOW YOU -(my latest novel) but there will be soon.

The other news is that my wounded foot is much better for all the resting, and the abstinence has meant I had time to finish making my cardigan (which looks much nicer on that it does here)

while watching a film called I'll See You In My Dreams. This quiet and thoughtful film is about a woman in her sixties facing a change in her life - rather like my character Jane in Even When They Know You. I had some misgivings about the film, but I did like it, and am going to watch it again. The star is Blythe Danner. I recognised her from somewhere and couldn't think from where, and it was bugging me all through the film.  I found out on the net she was Hawkeye's long lost lover in M*A*S*H. If it wasn't for Google it would still be racking my brains and driving me bonkers.

Lastly, I may have been premature in telling you what my plans are for the next novel. Sally Howe might not be appearing in it. It might not be a comedy. I'm still thinking.