Deeper into autumn

Outside my window, the lawn is clogged with orange carpets of fallen leaves; and also zigzagged by a mysterious series of giant grey toadstools, grown out of nowhere, seemingly following some hidden fissure in the earth.

Still writing. Sometimes I feel like a look-out strapped to the mast of some ship, staring through the fog, waiting for the promised land of the next novel to suddenly take shape before me. Well, I've definitely sighted that land now, and these last two weeks it's been steadily swimming into focus, day by day, which is a very good feeling. I'm busy figuring out my chapter plans now.

My birthday last week too. Celebrated in the traditional way, i.e. a long walk in damp forests, followed by bacon butties and hot tea.