The biggest distraction
I wish I could just write. Day after day of peaceful progress would be wonderful. Life surely does get in the way though.
There’s ‘writing stuff’ – replying to lovely reader’s emails, checking out the e-newsletters and buying too many books, (Melanie Harlow, Melanie Harlow!) recording my overnight sales figures, planning and booking promotions - which is really time-consuming - and keeping up with emails from friends who are writers, and sometimes critiquing or proofreading for them. That’s all legit.
There’s the garden, which is just sliding from summer to autumn, but is still full of flowers (including another flush of gorgeous white waterlilies in the pond.) I can’t ignore it. I get a lot of pleasure from it, and so do my visitors.
There’s the curtain work – less of it these days – but there are still jobs that are so big or so high that they require two of us. And I like meeting all those people and seeing their houses and gardens and cats and dogs.
But being self-employed and semi-retired has its drawbacks, because there is, undeniably, the husband. His workshop is right next to my office. I am the shortcut through the house! Would I like a cup of coffee? Tea? What are we having for lunch? Do we need any groceries while he’s out at the hardware store? Did I hear about the terrible flooding up north? Does my car need petrol yet? Oh f……………..or heaven’s sake!
Right now, there’s an extra treat. It’s utterly pouring. You should have heard the thunder earlier – it truly sounded liked bombs going off. It rained most of yesterday. It is forecast to rain ALL of today. The café over the road is not doing much business. And to amuse himself my sweetie has ripped out the laundry alcove at the end of his workshop – right through the wall from where I’m sitting. There is thumping, ripping, cursing, banging, the triumphant progress of the old laundry tub through my office (would I like a cup of coffee?) The wall cladding is off, he’s sneezing at the insulation, and I dare not check what else is happening.
This comes as something of a surprise. I thought we were going to move the laundry in a while because we have a building scheme in mind to combine the kitchen and conservatory and tuck the laundry into the corner of that. A new tub with fancy drawers underneath has already been bought, and I’ve started on the cardboard model of what I want built. (I would have tried architecture if my maths had been better.)
Never mind – life is never dull. We can have a new laundry and then we can have another new laundry, and if it keeps him out of my hair it’s all good. Are you surprised the current books are running rather late?