Chicks and chores of writing

The seagull chicks have hatched! I keep trying to get a picture but they are either hiding behind the chimney breast or not in sight at all, which makes photography a bit tricky. This pair of gulls nest on a roof opposite every year so we have a good view of the maternity suite and get quite proprietorial about the state of play.

Unlike most people, himself loves seagulls though I’m still not sure why. Both he and Father Seagull are in the dog box at the moment as Himself threw dog biscuits out of the window to feed the gulls, and Father Seagull trampled all over one of my tubs that I’d just planted up with a very fetching pink petunia. The petunia now looks as if it’s been on a bender and been trampled on and I think you can guess my reaction.

Today I finished the third edit of current novel and I feel a certain sense of achievement overall. My brain has hit a slump and feels as if I’ve run a marathon, which I suppose I have in a cerebral sense. I have aching brain cells – know the feeling? With unusually good timing, we’re going up to Devon for the weekend so I shall have several days to recover, and get over yet another rejection of an article I’m trying to sell.

Sometimes I read what I’ve written and think, ‘this is TERRIBLE,’ and struggle on, hating every word. This is usually when I’m tired and my concentration skids over the surface, unable to catch on. At the end of the working day I slump on the sofa with a glass of wine and wonder what I’m doing, where I’m going with it all.

Other days I read it and think, ‘this isn’t too bad.’ Occasionally I wonder, ‘did I really write that? It’s good!’ And I take the dog for a long walk and go to bed happy.