My New Hiding Place

The last few months have, yet again, been spent thinking about writing, lots of thinking but not much doing and that is despite much encouragement from friends.

Finally though I think I'm ready for the off.

The house cleaning which I was using as an excuse... the I must just "wash the floor/chisel the grime from the skirting boards/remove the Miss Havisham like swathings from the cornices" tasks are at last completed. Now, I'm not suggesting we have reached hygienic levels of cleanliness, but if I said that Time Team would have cheerfully conducted a dig here you may get an idea of what I was dealing with. I have also redecorated both children's rooms, which translates as I chose the paint, made tea and generally offered unhelpful suggestions whilst husband and son did manly bonding over paintbrushes. I have designed a huge bookcase too, where I can rehome the tottering piles of books that adorn every flat surface in the house.

After all this sorting, a modern day visit to the Augean stables, my reward was to make myself a place to write, hidden away, quiet, no distractions and three flights of stairs away from the biscuits. There is a bookcase, my favourite pictures on the wall in front of me, my ipod and an ashtray.

Let writing commence