It's Little Christmas Day, or Epiphany, so the Christmas decorations (and blog post) come down and in our household there's a final celebratory meal with the good china and decent linen and shiny silver cutlery. However, it's all back to work at the same time and despite my rigorously designed New Year timetable, which slots writing in between various paid work and unpaid work and family commitments and exercise (yes, I know, but it's New Year - I might as well seize the opportunity!), I'm still a week behind, possibly two, on Death of an Officer's Lady. Lots of fun reading military history books again, but due to some work I have on at present I've been struck with a great idea for the book two after Death of an Officer's Lady and I have to be strict with myself and ignore that (while collecting research notes I might not be able to get in two years' time), and get on with Waterloo.
And the seed catalogues have come in, so even as I type I'm being tempted by luscious courgettes of at least ten varieties. Will I get beans to grow this year? Will the slugs eat my onions again? Will the voles eat my sunflower seeds? The more disheartened I feel, the more I try to remember that actually, we ate our own home grown potatoes on Christmas Day, despite the blight! And they were the best roast potatoes I've ever had the luck to cook.
Greetings to readers who have strayed in from Poland, India, Taiwan and Ukraine - welcome! I hope the British climate doesn't put you off, and that you will stay for a little, even if you arrived by accident!
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