September 12th, 2006


The house- abandoned in the middle of its makeover- looks like a newly excavated Pompeiian villa. 

But I'm very good at editing out information I don't want to engage with.  Mess- what mess?

And I'm hopeless at housework. Some people can just whisk round a room and it looks great; I plod round a room and it looks exactly as it did before.

I wouldn't know where to start.

I dream of living in a vast, white, minimalist apartment: Gleaming wood floors, no ornaments, furniture from the Bauhaus, a single late-period Picasso on the wall, windows looking out from a great height over a  rainy northern city...

I put this apartment into a story once and the first thing my heroine did- being a surrogate for me- was to cover the floor with an enormous toy train set, complete with houses and bridges and hundreds of little people.


The  fourth  Purchas book- Purchas: The Embarkation For Cythera- will start posting tomorrow. 

The year is 1670. There is no such thing as an Immortal any longer- not since Andrew Sartorius invented the Antidote. There is a war in progress and Purchas and Margery are in Southern France, awaiting the arrival of an old friend- the woman now known as The Red Death...