I interviewed a writer who gets up at 5.00 every morning, writes for three hours, takes a walk on the Heath, then writes a bit here and there throughout the day.
I need to follow in her footsteps, but I am bushed. I am also lazy and frayed.
This evening I have homework to do, loads of books to read.
The daughter is getting better. The old git is arriving in London at 1.00a.m. this evening and I am as full as a grazing cow. I have eaten so much marrow and salad I feel like a wheelbarrow full of grass cuttings.
The coalition are beginning to make me feel anxious. They are so nice when they talk about the cuts. I cannot believe that the mass of Brits will let them get away with what they are planning. As the rich get richer and the poor get slammed nobody seems to be saying anything
I think we have all turned to sago.
This morning I had acupuncture, Monica calmed my spirit and stuck needles in my extremeties, I am now ready for bed.
The dog is barking on the balcony, the sun is shining on the river and if I have the courage I am going to open up my third chapter and do some writing. So take a deep breath and