something of london 5
The London Eye.
Photo is author's own
don't build your house...
...on shifting sand Photo is the author's own
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Last week, in the company of dear friends, I was lucky enough to visit two beautiful English gardens, blooming in the June sunshine. Luckier still these gardens were attached to two different, very slightly 'stately', homes, once owned by two wonderful women writers. The first was Monk's House, in Sussex. A 17th century retreat, once owned by Virginia Woolf and her husband Leonard. The few rooms in the house that we were allowed to walk through were gloomy, and atmospheric, and fascinating. But the room of real interest was Virginia's writing room. It was in a large summer house, set apart from the main house, further down the garden, amongst fruit trees and cottage garden borders. Unfortunately visitors weren't allowed to enter the room, but could gaze into it through large windows set in three sides of the building. The room was full of items that had once belonged to Virginia, and were arranged around the room, and on the desk, as if the room was still in use and...
twenty minutes
It's been three months since I last posted anything here, but that's a good thing. I've realised that I can spend my time blogging or I can spend that time writing my story and I've been story writing. I've now completed the first draft of Part Two (as I think of it). As I've mentioned before I'm back working full-time so have much less spare time now to devote to writing. Days off are spent catching up with family and friends, doing chores, tending my vegetable plot, all the stuff that everyone does to keep a life ticking over. So I find writing time in the mornings after breakfast and before leaving for work, in the evening while dinner is in the oven. Twenty minutes here and there is all I find but over the days and weeks that adds up. Those twenty minutes are hard won and I'd much rather spend them on the story than on blogging. So if all is quiet here then that's a good sign.
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