Alone With My Own Thoughts

As I write, I’m sitting up in bed, it’s 10.47pm, and I’m listening to The last episode of Radio 4’s Book Of The Week. One of the Adrian Mole books by Leicester’s own Sue Townsend. I met her once, at the old Phoenix Theatre back in 1982. Today I’ve done very little other than go for a longish Walk, see my wife off on a bus to South Wimbledon, eat good sandwiches write and read a little, and watch several movies.

it feels good to be alone for a while, a chance to clear my head and make headway with the summer reading. A chance to do nothing if you will, but a nothing that’s constructive and induces a sense of calm in these aging bones. The building work is all finished, and I have a new workspace, a place to read, a place to write and blog. My space, my turf, my place of sanctuary. Bliss

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My new workspace. It’s even more clear of clutter, as I’ve ditched the speakers.