Written 9 June, 2020 We’ve settled into a regime of going to the flat everyday to write and work because at Marg’s there’s no internet, and it’d take ages to get it put on. My novel, GG’s eternal play. He keeps re-writing it, though that’s not quite what he does – abandoning it and… Continue reading…
Written 7 June, 2020. Our bay is always with me, even at Marg’s in the city. Our neighbour (last lived there over a decade ago) with the high trees writes to say he can only put $500 to the proposed bill of about $7000 to lop his trees. We’d offered… Continue reading…
Written 5 June, 2020. Days of torment about my chapter. My tormentor my editor has said it’s like a re-write of my book The Mystery of the Cleaning Lady: a Novelist Looks at Creativity and Neuroscience and he’s right, it is; a re-write; then he says it needs typo correcting and the removal of my florid novelistic… Continue reading…
Written 3 June, 2020. Settling into the city, remembering to go out with masks and little bottles of hand sanitiser in handbags or pockets. A frantic scrounge for each when we walk into crowds. It’s so long since our carefree, but cold, days by the river. Marg is entirely loveable. But on our… Continue reading…
Written 29 May, 2020 It takes all day to leave. The tide’s low in the morning, so we can’t leave. It’s begun to go down again by the time we at last get in the boat, turning and waving to our neighbours on their deck and Dy standing at his brazier with… Continue reading…
Written 28 May, 2020. Our last day, unbearably beautiful. I ring back my friend S in New York, because she rang me accidentally at 5.30 am. I can’t do the maths. tell her about the scam and she urges me to ring VISA. There’s lots of good stories, they’ve been generous in this… Continue reading…
Written 26 May, 2020. The chapter’s almost finished, and we decide it’s got too hard – nine days of no sunshine, the firewood is always damp, the night temperatures that drop to 8 degrees, the generator shock. We’ll go away for two months, back to the city to the house of… Continue reading…
Written 25 May. The day began so well, there was no hint of what was coming. Our neighbour ST appeared on our deck with the huge gas bottle- he’d been walking along the track and seen I’d dumped it on the bottom step This wouldn’t happen in the city! We chat for a few… Continue reading…
Written 24 May, 2020. One of those dreary cold days when you should stay in bed with your cuddly flannelette sheets and your electric blanket on high. In fact, I can’t sleep, I’m worrying over the chapter so much that I catch myself saying aloud a sentence, so there’s no help for it. I get… Continue reading…
Written 23 May, 2020 Moxham’s late. He was due at 8 am to collect our rubbish, but where is he? We must boat to Brooklyn, to Homer’s, for our food box before a gale comes. I pace along the track at 8.15. Dy’s anxious, for he’s arranged that Moxham on the same… Continue reading…