Sorry for the silence. Mr S and I went to Wales for a smalliday – (like a holiday, only smaller). It didn’t rain, horray! and we ate tea and cake and scones every day. Again, horray. I made the decision before we left to leave Fred behind. Our friends Laura and Miles came to stay for the weekend, and I kept dithering – should I take Fred, will she be alright without me? Will my neighbour remember to water her – oh wait, no that’ s the pot plant in the kitchen. So, Fred stayed at home. And I pined.
Mr S and I walked along the most striking beach in Pembrokeshire, very near to Dylan Thomas’ boathouse/ writing shed. When the tide went out it left a vast, empty stretch of sand and I paced up and down listening to the roar of the sea and thinking about Fred. My dreams were full of saltwater and my fingers are itching to start writing again.
On more important issues. I baked cupcakes. I baked them to simultaneously impress Miles and Laura with my domestic prowess (usually pretty dodgy, just ask my mother) and also to use up those pesky adverbs/ adjectives. You know, as writers we’re always told to go carefully on them, like chef’s with the cayenne pepper, and it seemed like a good use for them. I hate to waste things. But, in the end there were insufficient ‘ly’ in the alphabet sweetie box and Mr S and I got rather carried away and decided to spell anything to do with writing and stories. I am sure you’ll agree that they are splendid. I am very proud of myself. The pity is there’s none left.