4am

I woke at silly o'clock today. I could have just laid there, warm and toasty, but my brain was awake too, listing things I could do quietly with the couple of hours before the household awoke: Read, make cheese scones ('oh, not enough cheese,') rewrite the white board diary in the kitchen, bake with the surplus eggs..... Write.

Downstairs the cats were surprised by me, they blinked in the light, stretching and rubbing up against me hoping it was time for an early breakfast. I busied myself trying to light the log burner, the only source of heat in the kitchen.

After several attempts at the fire I had to admit defeat. I just didn't have enough kindling. I listened and noted that the storms of yesterday had passed by so, donning my new, [well, hand-me-down, Jules Wellibobs donated by a lovely friend,] I firmly tied my dressing gown hitched up my thermals and went out gently into that good, dark night.

There was a stillness to the land, a pre-dawn calm. Even rooster, locked in his box, was quiet, most likely asleep. The stars littered the sky and the distant glow of the city, maybe 50 miles away, burnished the horizon.

It's not far to the log shed, out the front door and up the drive towards the stables. Pink was the first to hear me as she lay in the field over the hedge. I noted her soft needy tone. Alerted to my presence Snowy and Moon, bleated hellos too. I could picture them bedded down in the grass;. big sheep now, not the tiny lambs I raised by bottle.

'Morning girls' I whispered and they bleated again but I could tell they were still in their same positions, they knew it wasn't yet time to get up.

In the wood shed I shone my torch and selected a good box of kindling, prepared by hubby in early Autumn.

*

And now I'm by the crackling fire, talking to you. Tabby, the bigger cat has a cold and has crawled up to my lap for extra warmth. He sneezes occasionally and nips me on the hand as I type, just to remind me that he's here.

It's 5.10.

Last night the 10yo finished reading my children's book Nancy, Peggy and Susan. First Freedom. [Available at Amazon for Kindle Lulu for ebook download and Barnes and Nobel for Nook.] She'd asked me to read her the last chapter which was a privilege. There's a little twist in the ending and I'd wondered if it was obvious. It wasn't. As I began to build up to the secret she stopped me and excitedly described what she thought was going to happen. As I revealed the plot she squealed and demanded I hand over my Kindle, determined to read for herself. She was convinced I was making up words rather than reading them. She had been wrong and the twist had caught her out. It was exactly the reaction I was hoping for when I wrote the story some four years ago. Priceless. A moment I'll treasure.

Well I'm off to make tea and begin the process of re-reading my long abandoned novel.... a fictional version of The Archers at The Larches with the temporary title of The Perrys at The Berries. I think I put it aside in order to learn more about the land, animals and me as a writer, but now I suddenly feel compelled to finish.

Have a good day, I think I shall.

A Bibs Finalist and sturdy bras.....

I am thrilled to be a finalist in the Bibs Lit Category this year.

To be nominated was fab, to be shortlisted was outstanding AND NOW I REALLY WANT TO WIN! [Oops, indoor voice please.]

There's no more influencing to be done, it's up to the judges. However as I'm superstitious I would ask that you all cross fingers, toes, eyes and legs in an effort to sway the Gods my way.

The judge for my category is very interesting. A Mr Robin Harvie, he makes a convincing argument for running. See here

I've often thought of running for fitness, [and then laughed and laughed imagining the visual,] but when my pal told me about a bra she'd recently seen in John Lewis, I was tempted to try.

'It sounds like a Yentl bra,' I suggested.

She nodded vigorously.

Only with sturdy scaffolding will I attempt a jog unless, of course, one of the cats has captured a baby bird, rabbit, squirrel, sheep, goat, cow.... !

Fitness for Writers...

All day I sit and write. Even in the good weather I'm fairly disciplined, writing Monday to Friday. Sad ass, I know but I'm also conscious that the sproglet's Summer Holidays will soon be upon us and I will struggle to concentrate.

Last night I lay on the 7yo's bed and we had a little chat. It's difficult to understand her when she's tired and sucking her thumb. However, her brain still operates very efficiently thank you.

'Why have you got these?' She fingered the skin below my eyes and I could only imagine the dark suitcases of tired that were hanging there!

'What do you mean? Describe what you see.' Probably shouldn't have done THAT!

'Sort of, ermm, creased triangles hanging down that are, ermmm, sort of grey.'

It was an accurate portrayal, delivered without agenda.

'Well I think I'm very tired and also I've not been out in the fresh air these past weeks. I've just been in the office, working. I probably need to get out in the fields and exercise and get a bit fit again. I don't do enough when I'm writing.'

'Hmmmm.' The 7yo considered this as she continued to suck her thumb and stroke her favoured Bed-Bear's silky label.

'I know,' she said. 'All writers should have pedals attached to their computer, and unless they pedal, their computers won't work.'

Genius. Writers; creating their own electricity (not just gas) AND getting fit.... now there's an idea....

Later I searched to see if such a device even existed. Is the Pope Catholic/catholic? ... (another blog post entirely).... Yikes! I found a sort-of solution in Bloggyland! The Treadmill Desk... ... they just need to add the 'create-your-own-electricity' bit and then I can see it flying off the QVC shelves.