After a morning's rewriting - the new synopsis done and dusted and final fiddle with c's 1 - 3 - I decided to give myself some time out in the sunshine.
Melvyn Barg on R4 whilst doing my pilatesing this morning - talking about Alexander Pope. He was the first English person ever to make his living as a writer. Because he was Catholic, he wasn't allowed to live in London and so lived 10 miles outside in Twickenham. Have been meaning for ages to revisit his Grotto gardens, haven't been there since I moved here, and so, after dumping off the library books, took a wander. He was not a pleasant character so it seems, and didn't leave home without his great dane and loaded pistols. Took a stroll down the cobbled lanes to the river and along, stopped off in Langton's, our independent bookshop. Serge Lourie, the leader of the council, he of the salutory coshing the 4 x 4's in there, being talked at very loudly his companion. It's also a coffee shop. The mad mini Roman fountain, all dripping maidens and and rearing horses v. good value for a dip out of the high street. Then back to the library feeling all full of the past so I've brought home some fat photographic history books. Am reading 2 novels already, some proofs an author friend gave me of contemporary women's stuff, which I really must read more of to get up to speed a bit. I'm still wandering off into paragraphs that meander and explain too much too often instead of the short, snappy chatter stuff I'm supposed to be doing.
I got in touch with Favourite Agent who has agreed to take another look. So the fingers are all crossed every which way.
Not going to work too hard today and now off to have a cup of tea and sprawl with new lib. books.
Bye bye, thanks for visiting, come again soon.