Thursday: try to edit the row about the open porthole scene. When will Occado come?The 9-10 slot passes. Go to yoga-I can’t empty my mind of ‘tomato puree, did I order any?’ and ‘too much passive voice’. Lunch – bus – tutoring.
It dawns on me. 9-10pm.
Friday: Hooray, hooray -cleaning day! The world and his dog for a barbecue on Sunday. Usual dilemma- clean first, write later? I mop and manage a micro- edit.
Saturday: Montezuma chocolates melting – bought for Steve’s Mum. The bus is late. I make buns and tinker with The Thirteenth Pharaoh.
Sunday: No worries on the writing part. I didn’t do any.
Monday: Greg Mosse has prompted me to think about the main part of my MA – serial monogamy or a bit on the side?
Tuesday: My editing – making things better or worse? At least some variant of each chapter’s now in version 3. Son number three arrives – gives tutorial on website. So quick, so clever. Puts me on spot – do it in front of him. I chicken out.
Go to Chichester – borrow car, worry about reversing lanky estate into walls. Talk at Library. Which road? Arrive – no lights, no swishee swishee automatic door, no sign of anyone.
Did I get the time right, the venue, the day? Go to box office – pairs and pairs of posh people in evening dress. No enlightenment. Steam out of ears, or tears from eyes threaten.
Today: Will I post this right? Will anyone read my stuff – ever?
Welcome to my Wonderful World of Worry.