1. As I flip through my prompt-writing book, I wonder at all the different colours and styles of my early morning writing -- all the different colours of ink and types of pencil I am happy to use. I am not a person who MUST have their mechanical pencil or special fountain pen. I grab whatever is to hand -- this is because demanding a special tool will stop me writing, as the chances are, it will not be where I am. There are pots of pens and pencils everywhere I am likely to write -- on my desk, by my bed, near the front door, on Katie's desk; as well as stashes in my bags, tucked into the spines of notebooks and at Nick's. The pens and pencils are liable to move around -- when one depot is full, it's likely that another is empty.
2. Choosing a posh ready meal for supper, knowing that it will be delicious and that I don't have to do anything except put it in the oven (and Nick will probably do that).
3. Using the last of a bottle of bubble bath when there is slightly more in there than one portion -- it feels rather decadent to rinse out the bottle because that last drop is not worth saving for the next bath.
Book, volunteers and shower.
1. I spot that he's brought along the copy of Puck of Pook's Hill that I left in his room a month or so ago. 2. Everywhere, there ...
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1. The shortest night and the longest day. I was up at Wellington Rocks with Anna, Paul and Jason. We couldn't see the sun through the m...
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1. Oli has written a poem describing how Tunbridge Wells makes him veer between wanting to fall in love and wanting to shoot people. Which i...
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1. The cottage across the carpark is covered in scaffolding. Now that the roofers have gone home, the family has climbed up to see the view ...