A Writer & Her Screwdriver
Not a lot of writing going on at present. Actually, not any writing, except things like FRAGILE and THIS WAY UP on packing cases. I’ve spent three weeks sifting, sorting, tsk tsk-ing and hurling things into a skip. If they ever make skip-hurling an Olympic sport, I’m your woman.
One considerable achievement has been the dismantling of several miles of home made bookshelves. My husband used to do all that manly stuff while I hovered in the kitchen with flour on the end of my nose. No more. He is a frail and sick man and I must take over. But I’ve discovered how deeply satisfying it can be to figure out how a shelf was made and so unmake it. I’ve fallen into bed at night aching from unaccustomed weight lifting. I’ve dreamed of Phillips head screws. Hundreds of them. I can’t say I’ve lost any weight – rewarding myself with Bailey’s Irish Cream each evening has put the kibosh on that desirable possibility – but I certainly feel fitter, I have a great sense of achievement, and I’m raring to get back to the day job. 
A writer and her screwdriver. Whoever would have thought it. Moving Day is December 29th. Spare a thought for me, dear reader.
I would need more than Bailey’s to sustain me through that. Will be thinking of you. Good luck with the move.
So impressed with the dismantling, Laurie. Hope the move went without a hitch. Books arrived perfectly. Thank you.
I wrote a long note and it’s disappeared. Instead of moaning, I am just saying ‘shut the front door’ to myself . To you I am saying thank you for the pleasures in At Sea , and also how much I am looking forward to my next ‘fix’ with The Night in Question’ . I gather you have moved home…hope it went as well as possible.
Laurie, I think your books are fantastic and you are wonderful coping with a husband with dementia. I hope you are getting help and support and the move will not be too unsettling for Howard. Best wishes and please do not stop writing!
Love from Mary French