My oh my. I think I’ve broken my own personal record for length of time spent away from this journal!
Much has transpired in the past six weeks. We found a new house, bought it (that sounds easy, doesn’t it? Just two word’s worth to describe a great deal of palaver) and finally moved in as of last week. We’re now installed in the lovely town of St Albans, just twenty minutes north of London by train out of King’s Cross, platform 9 ¾ of course.
It wasn’t easy to leave the boat. De Jelte tugged on our heartstrings and emptied our pocket book as only true love can do. She is now in good hands, however – I have visited and seen what the new skipper is up to below decks. Some fine renovations are going down.
I will very much miss our friends on the island – what a community that was, and is. Writers, artists, carpenters, travelers, businessmen – a slice of London life at its best, an oasis in the wilds of Brentford. If you’re reading this, Lot’s Aiters, please keep in touch!
Work-wise, I’ve entered the last lap on the WIP that is IP. It has to be the last lap because of the Frankfurt Book Fair, which insists on happening in October rather than a more personally convenient time of, say, January. Never mind. Deadlines help me focus and the ms will either cut it or it won’t. I’m having fun, either way.
Is it allowed to have fun while writing to a deadline? Is it a Bad Sign? Must we always suffer in order to produce something worthwhile? I do hope not.