Ailz and I have started in on the Atos form. We're at the stage of making notes. We don't entirely agree about strategy. Ailz thinks we need to tell them every little thing that's wrong with her. I think we should select for maximum impact. She's probably right. My problem is I can't stop thinking like a writer.
I wonder who we're writing for. Will it be someone who understands what they're reading or a box-ticker?
I slept well- too well. the heaviness stretches out into the morning. I could get used to country living.
I was listening to the robin yesterday evening. How can such a small beastie make such a big noise?
I've brought my book of star maps down with me. I want to re-learn the night sky. I stepped out onto the lawn with it yesterday but the cloud cover was total. The skies over Kent have a lot more light pollution than when I was a boy. Then you could see the Milky Way.
Tasks for this morning: Rake out mole hills, pick apples, make apple pie.
I wish I could go back to the early '70s and lie in wait in a corner of the garden here and ambush my earlier self- on one of his infrequent and grudging visits to his parents' house (he almost always came down with a migraine)- and tell him he'd be living in the house in 40 years time and (what is more) doing all the cooking.
How surprised he would be.