There is, of course, absolutely nothing to do here. Apart from walk, or bike, and stare out of the window and listen to the birds. Internet shopping gets boring quite quickly when you never see anybody and earn no money, so, guess what?! Might as well write that novel.
Maybe even a psyche as addled as mine understands that if you give up your job and abandon your friends and family and your home so that you can write your book, what you do is write your book. It's become like a physical imperative, as well, rather helpfully; something I have to do, as well as want to do. So I have boxed myself into a very pretty, lonely, wind-blasted corner. Let's hope I don't end up chewing off my own foot.
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