Thank you everyone, your good wishes worked. David and Stacey retained their title. Now my nerves have settled (well almost) and we have Christmas to look forward to I can get back to the business of writing instead of worrying. Well perhaps….
It’s been a roller-coaster couple of weeks. Our lives are always thrown into chaos when my son comes home but this year was even busier, perhaps it’s because we are living under a state of occupation. My parents sold their home (of 30 years) in the south and moved north in the summer. The plan had been that they live in the flat my daughter and her family had just vacated but mum and dad found that was just big enough to store their belongings (they were supposed to downsize). With barely a blink they announced they would have to live with us until they found something suitable. And they have found something suitable – in the next village – but they haven’t moved in yet.
During the subsequent occupation I have come to the conclusion I have an overdeveloped need for privacy. Mum and dad are great, they do the washing and ironing, organise meals, play hide and seek with the great grandsons and generally make life brighter. However…their occupation has been a disaster for my creativity. Or more precisely for my ability to write.
I like my peace and quiet. I have my own workspace where I spend part of my day writing. I can do that because I am grown up now and don’t have to ask mum’s permission to do anything anymore. But after half an hour mum always comes in with a cup of coffee and gives me a look that I know means she doesn’t consider someone sitting down in front of a computer during daylight hours to be employed in doing anything commendable. So I feel guilty. And that isn’t a good state of mind for a middle aged writer.