No of words: Same
All of 6 yards, away from the fridge to the garden corner of the room beside the back French window. I thought partner would object, because he gets very weary of my furniture moving fanaticism. But he was surprisingly all for it. Everything feels clean and fresh, I have a new wall to look at, much smoother and less wobbly.
The work work still hasn't arrived so some surprising free time over the weekend. I did the research for my newspaper pieces yesterday. I have been offered my first freebie! What do I do? Politely refuse saying I do not wish to jeopardise my journalistic integrity? Say yes please and stash? Say yes please and pass it on to the reader? That was my first instinct, but the company offer was to me so that I can, as an expert in my little domestic-goddess-like corner of the world, sample their wares. Would have to involve the editor, too, get reader's address and then ask the company to send it to them, which wasn't their intention. So I think it's a case of licking finger and striking the air with a one and trousering. Met a journalist the other day who writes about health spas. Imagine that? She gets invitations all the time from spas around the world, asking her, begging her, to come and sample their wares. What do I get? A bottle of brass polish. Well, it's a start and I'm chuffed . I was, I hasten to add, going to write about them anyway.
Am hopeful can get some work on the final chapter today. But am also keen to start shifting stuff around earlier in the book. I'm obviously in a shifting stuff kind of a mood. However WON'T allow myself to do that until I've reached the end. Though time has been genuinely tight, there may be something psychological about not wanting to finish. I am scared about sending it out. Really, really scared. In a way my time away from the pressures of publication and all that it entails has been a precious time. Yes we're manically broke and my partner's taking the stress of this far more than I am; all I can do is work as hard as I can and hope things will improve. Obviously if the rejections pour in that hope is going to get a nasty slap.
Manically broke and revving up for the hols. Tut. But we're so lucky to have been invited to stay with friends. We're splashing out on a couple of hotel nights on the way back. We were going to camp but have sadly decided we've reached the age where avoiding Other People's Noises and The Necessity for Personal Bathroom Space have taken priority. Finally found a reasonably priced hotel yesterday, near a tiny resort we discovered last year which is the very beach where Mr Hulot took his Holiday. I am a sucker for this kind of tourism, for years we've been going to Sybille Bedford's Sanary sur Mer and I've spent many happy hours tracking down the places in the book.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.