Fig.1 My nemesis: a feather duvet
Abandoning a feather filled duvet in the B&B ‘retreat’ in Devon for health reasons (asthma) I find my feet tucked, contained and strapped into place like it was the 1960s and I’m eight years old and sleeping over at my Granny’s house. (Every effort was made to accommodate my allergy including putting a barrier sheet on the mattress). I ought to have come armed with a few items: a handheld zapper mini-vacuum that draws the pesky house-dust mite into its bag while killing any that may remain).
Fig. 2. Raycop
Meanwhile, the efforts to learn how to write a novel are thus far proving highly productive: one 3000 word scene written, substantial plotting, seven further scenes conceived with another two reaching the 1000 word mark, two key characters established with a third making his presence felt.
Unpicking three decades of going about it the wrong way. Its hard when you’ve taught to play the piano with your feet and your dick that you have to use your hands and your brain instead.