She walked here, she walked!
Those of you who were regular readers of my old blog, now sadly defunct, may remember that I once wrote of a small village the other side of the river from me. You can still retrieve the article here , and read it again if you wish. It was one of my more whimsical pieces. Some days I would wake early and lacerate some hapless politician - some days I would gaze out of the window onto the water meadows opposite and try to describe what I saw. I have never been able to 'write to order' - I would have made a hopeless journalist. I don't have much imagination - I would have starved to death as a novelist. For me, writing was a way of emptying my mind of whatever had invaded it in the early hours. It allowed me to get on with the rest of the day. I did have the occasional pang of sympathy for my poor readers, they never knew what to expect. Still, it was my blog, so I just went on doing it, and they went on reading it.... Anyway, rambling as usual. In that pie...