He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence

A cheery little quote from Blake at the start of a cheery little novel, just sent to the agent.

All God's Children: 93,000 words on unrequited lesbian love, war, religion, sex and terminal illness. Plus a few dead babies thrown in for good measure. It can't help but be a bestseller, surely? I have 35,000 words spare in case it needs to be longer. Film rights available.

I shall require careful handling in the next few weeks.

A sentimental education

There are tales to be told of the Bank Holiday weekend but I won’t, lacking the energy for a family saga.

Instead, a picture of The Boy, now six months old, up a mountain by the bluebells.

He squeaks with delight whenever his Aunt V talks to him. She surreptitiously wipes away the odd tear.