Early Morning Dreaminess
We have a guest arriving today, so it’s another early start. I had a very early start yesterday too. Heat, mosquito, strange dream, waking to look at the time hoping it said it was five, and I’d had eight hours sleep; it read 2.45, and I’d had nearly six, so that would have to do. It was already 28 degrees in the courtyard where someone’s cat was playing with the leaves that had blown from the vine, though there was no breath of wind. There was some roach activity, but I chased it around with a can of spray while trying not to wake the husband, and lost it under the sofa. I found it later when I stepped on it by accident, so that saw it off. Then I set to work on chapter 22 and imagined myself on Bodmin more at three in the morning, in August 1890, looking at standing stones and relating the symbols carved on them to the plot of the novel, and found my smoking gun.
It was an interesting start to the day, and, as I write, it’s still only six (Tuesday morning). We plan to head to Yialos later. I have some modelling paints to collect from ACS, there’s the post office to check as I am expecting a book about Victorian workhouses, and we need to raid the bank. All being well, today (yesterday) will see our first lunch out of the season. No doubt there will be more when said guest arrives tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this semi-retired pace from day to day. To the last syllable of… Talking of which, I must get over this lack of sleep-induced dreaminess and get back to stringing syllables together to make a coherent story. Smoking gun, here I come.
