Elsewhere

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I am on holiday. Nowhere exotic or even far or even anywhere (except in my imagination). Books will be read. Short stories will be devoured. My office may be de-cluttered or re-cluttered and possibly ripped apart or left just as it is. There will be candyfloss (even if I have to buy it from the van that occasionally rolls into the estate) and ice cream, maybe some Edinburgh Rock. There will hopefully (rain allowing) be beaches and arcades and arms full of stupid soft toys from those grabby things that will end up in the kids toy box and possibly dissected. There may be museums or I might just brush the dust off my shoulders and pretend I'm an exhibit from the late 1980s sitting in a deckchair beside a sign that reads, Here There Be Weeds. And there will be writing, or planning, or both.

I shall see you all about the 7th or 8th of August. I'm actually looking forward to being unplugged, but I shall miss you all. Now it's time to sever my wireless box (this could take several hours).