It’s 1.30 in the morning, and I’ve almost finished the packing. In half an hour I must wake up my husband and daughter; we’ll be out of the door by 3am. My ipod has dropped its charge, so will be out of action for a few days, which is INFURIATING (it does it every few months or so, and then works perfectly; but it’s bloody typical it would happen NOW). There are jelly beans waiting to be enjoyed once we’re on the plane. Everything is under control, or as much as is reasonable, and I’m really looking forward to the heat, the food and the wine. Oh yes, and I’ve finished the First Draft.
170,461 words that all add up to one baggy behemoth of a narrative monster. I can’t wait to pull it all to bits. See you in 10 days!
(The reading list was whittled down to A Game of Thrones, Green, The Tiger’s Wife, and The Hobbit and Harry Potter And The Philosopher’s Stone, both of the latter to read with my daughter.)
Flying, Not Falling… 