We’ve been away. Not very far. But still, a world away from south London. First, to Cornwall, where we stayed with friends in the house where we had our wedding reception. They live a short walk from the sea- across fields full of cows, then down beside the stream. It looks like this.
There were LOTS of children. There was camping (although not by me; I have camped but I am not currently a camper. I’m more of a comfy bed girl right now.). There were boats. There were crabs in a bucket, card games and French cricket on the lawn. Before we went, the web forecast was incessant rain and probable thunderstorms. Which made the endless blue skies even more delicious.
I’d just handed in the line edits for book 3, which means it really really is nearly done now. So I could spend time reading Skulduggery Pleasant to catch up with my 9 year-old (it’s FANTASTIC!), admiring my new US cover on my laptop (which I can’t show you yet because it’s not official, but is also FANTASTIC), and getting more ideas for book 4. Oh, and actually being on holiday. Sometimes the laptop stayed shut for several hours at a stretch.
Then we visited grandparents in Somerset and Sussex. There were more blue skies, more beaches and a very complicated jigsaw, which we finished on our second day.
Now we’re back. Was it the sort of holiday I could write about one day? Probably not. Book-friendly holidays require angst and narrative tension. When the beginning, middle and end are all happy, there’s little to tell. But if in one of my books one day there’s a boat, and a picnic, and a sheltered pebbled cove, and if a hoard of children had to tramp across a lush green landscape to get there, you’ll know I stole them from this summer.