Meisterwork interrrupted by coldus vulgaris

Hav­ing spent an hour or so on Sat­ur­day lying in the park, star­ing at clouds and refin­ing plot details with Fliss, I am most dis­ap­pointed to report that Tom has been left hang­ing on the telephone.

Lit­er­ally. Metaphor­i­cally. Cat­e­gor­i­cally. And prob­a­bly sto­ically. Chap­ter 5 is in my head, but unfor­tu­nately a highly emo­tional and almost cer­tainly re-draft-required scene needs to be writ­ten first.

And my head is full of snot. And my heart is full of mis­ery. Well. Not full. There’s some blood and stuff as well. But mainly misery.

Nor­mal (inter­est­ing choice of words) ser­vice will be resumed shortly.

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