Filthy Bad Mood

I had time to write today. Husband was out golfing; Daughter had lots of homework and Son … well, was not doing any homework or revision or anything that could be construed as useful – still he was quiet.

And I, stupidly, let a filthy bad mood stop me writing. I know that I should’ve written filthy bad mood type writing, but I couldn’t even do that.

I finished The Gathering. It reminded me of conversations I had with my sister while I was in the UK recently: we are close in age and yet remember totally different things about our childhood. We talked while she drove me around because I was nearly blind (following the contact lens saga) and all our memories are so intertwined and yet also so unreliable. We looked after a horse called Blue for a while, and one of us fell off him along the side of a road we drove down, and neither of us could remember which of us it was. We couldn't even decide how old we were when we did this.

Filthy Bad Mood was dissipated by Iron Man at the cinema, bizarrely. It was very silly but quite fun. Hopefully I will be able to write tomorrow.

Now I have the pleasure of starting a new book; what shall I choose?