I have been writing, writing, writing the last few days. It is far more tiring than digging the garden or hoovering. I was asked to write an article for The Friend about my job to encourage someone to apply for it when I leave next Spring. It was hard as I could not write in my usual slightly jokey style yet I did not want it to sound too serious or noble. I also have been doing stuff for the Colebrook Courier, our local Quaker mag and I have several poems in the gestation stage, though that sounds rather too grand for what they are.
It is a good thing to have a sedentary activity as I have stabbed my leg with a sharp thistle stalk whilst cutting back in the garden, and it has gone nasty, so I am on the penicillin. I am limping about in a decrepit manner.