Sunday October 25th 2009
Ah, there you are.
Sunday last it was the northern regional meeting and luncheon of the Crime Writers’ Association which was held in a posh hotel. The following Monday morning I was ill. I won’t bore you with the symptoms, but they didn’t involve the sweet smell of violets, a vision in diaphanous underwear or the resonance of gentle music from a stringed quintet. Oh no!
Anyway, this morning, I have been bustled out of bed at the queen’s insistence to turn the central heating clock back an hour. And while I was in the perpendicular position, I peered at the garden from the bathroom window, had a good scratch, wandered into the study, went through the post and switched on the computer … and here I am.
Well, as soon as I am fit, I will write you more. I don’t quite know where I am. My new Angel book has gone completely to pot. All I can remember is that some poor soul in a railway ticket office gets murdered on page 2.
Anyway, I’ll get cracking as soon as I am fit. Come back soon if you can put up with more ramblings from this old writer.