Despite editor and I having a tough old tussle over timing and alibis etc, Murder at The Laurels is finally on its way to the printers - at least, I think so. Or just line edits. Whatever, I'm now able to concentrate on Murder in Midwinter, for which I have now signed the contract, so no pressure. Word count now 20,637, with which I'm quite pleased, as I lost a whole week with the rewrites.
Enjoyable talk at Rochester Library, where they had very kindly asked the local bookshop to provide copies for sale. To my astonishment, we sold seven!
Also discovered a museum this week, where they may well have some archive material useful in research for Murder in Midwinter. It was a feature in BBC's Inside Out, the local interest programme which alerted me, in itself a useful research tool.
My non-special birthday, to be celebrated just because it falls on a Saturday, is now 3 weeks away, and the guest list is now over 60. I don't mind, because I'm having it in a local function room, inculding buffet, which means none of that rushing backwards and forwards with plates of food all day before, and clearing up afterwards. Just turn up, drink, chat and listen to favurite duo, which just happens to be son Miles and friend Martin, performing as Bona Tunes. And yes, I've offered to pay them... Lou will be singing, I hope, at least one ot two numbers, and Leo will join in on the keyboard at some point. Pity Philly won't be there, but it's a long way from Aus...
This week I have been marooned on an island surround by broken concrete and mud while the local council replace the footpaths. I have my very own orange barriers round my car, which is having to be parked on double yellows rather than its concrete base outside my house, but it's a little like escaping from Colditz to get out of the house. Happy days.