I'm really excited about writing my book for the next few weeks; it's getting close to that catharsis moment, when everything comes together/falls apart. Wish I had more time to write it, but hey. Tomorrow is a writing day, but I also have to take the car to the garage, and then Thursday is a writing day but I'm expecting a shopping delivery and a bed delivery and I have an inclusion support meeting for Twin 2 at school. I wish I'd known, back in the days when I used to nurse my hangover in front of This Morning (with Richard & Judy), quite how precious time is. I have just made an early start on my writing day by beginning to type up the next chapter after the kids went to bed - which does mean that the downstairs bathroom has yet again forfeited its weekly clean. But, honestly, we've hardly been here (we were away in London for three days out of the past seven), so it can't have got all that filthy since last week, can it?
I'm feeling happy and positive today, mainly due to the sunshine (woo hoo). I love England when the sun shines. I know I shouldn't get my hopes up. I know that the British weather is like a dreadful boyfriend I once had: charming and sunny one minute, raining all over your parade the next. (It took me a good two years to realise the dreadful boyfriend was never going to give me the Indian summer I deserved. Since then I have always carried a metaphorical umbrella.) I want to trust the sunshine. I want to start planning camping trips and bike rides and maybe even barbequeues (no, maybe not that, especially as I can't even spell it), but the weather is like an emotionally abusive boyfriend: not to be trusted. Ever.
Right. Better get some sleep. I've got to write the dead-sister's-evil-fiance-comes-back scene in the morning...
Nightie night xxx