I am three lines from completing Mary`s Decision, which is the last story I am submitting for my collection of short stories, title Tell it Not, to be published by Red Heifer Press in January. It has to be approved by Peter Gimpel, my dear publisher of course, but till now he has liked every story….
I am curious to understand why I have got stuck on the last three lines, though, and hope that I solve the issue shortly.
Then I need to decide what to write next, and am torn between returning to Ten Letters, the novel I started last summer, (which got interrupted by the process of finalising the story collection,) researching and writing a whole new play ( one or two ideas,) or perhaps reviving The Song of Deborah, because I feel that it is my best play, and still has way to go.
Meanwhile Covid still threatens – neighbours of one of our sons have come down it, and I believe most of them have been vaccinated…
Jeff is continuing to progress following his cervical laminectomy, neuro-surgery carried out on March 29th. This evening we took the car (I do the driving at the moment) and went to Grovelands Park, in Palmers Green. We sat by the beautiful lake watching what we thought was a coot walking beside the water, instead of swimming in it. Sweet.
TV seems less important when the evenings are long, mild and light, but when we do switch on news we get reports of idiotic whattsapp messages sent by Boris Johnson to Dominic Cummings, and I get the urge to switch off immediately. With no personal knowledge of what really went on, Jeff and I agreed on our walk that using expletives and calling people useless (and worse) was/is probably pretty much par for the course amongst the current generation of political so-called leaders.
Almost mid-summer. Where is the year going to?
