Real Life

I would be happy living in an ivory tower, reading, researching and writing, and only emerging to tend my organic garden, but real life doesn't allow it.

This morning, I wrote 2,000 words of Monday's Child, the sequel to Sunday's Child, and then went with my daughter to choose a new gas oven and fridge/freezer. I found exactly what I want on sale and well within my budget. They will be delivered and connected on the 3rd March, by which time my new kitchen will have been completed.

It's a big job. The whole kitchen will be gutted, a new floor laid, etc., etc. I'm not looking forward to having workmen in the house for two weeks, but am confident I will be delighted when the new kitchen  is in place.

An Ivory Tower

My instinct is to lock myself in an ivory tower, aka the spare bedroom, and write my novels. (I would open the door to receive drinks, meals and snacks with profound gratitude.

The ivory tower is unsuitable. I would be forced to emerge from it to deal with business and keep up with online sites. Today, I visited Link In after a long absence and found many messages from wonderful people who want to link up with me. It's great to meet old friends and make new ones. I've also joined pin interest while my hero and heroine are nudging me to continue their story.

As I have mentioned in earlier posts I am also catching up with innumerable scribbled notes. I vowed I would never allow them to increase out of all proportion to available time but - deep sigh - I've added a few more.