more written rubbish

I made some notes about a retired headteacher walking a dog in a park and seeing a young man hitting his dog, and then hitting him in turn with her umbrella - a totally out of character thing for her  to do - and then after he had broken her umbrella across his knee and burst into jerking sobs and she had sat down unceremoniously on the ground - it all came to a dreadful grinding halt.

And anyway that isn't the sort of story I really like - I love Penelope Fizgerald and Anita Brookner and Rose Tremain and Elizabeth Taylor - especially Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont and Penelope Lively and Mary Wesley... and really if  I can't write like a cross between any of them I don't want to write at all. And with that I grimaced and took my cough and cold and hot chocolate to the sofa in front of the fire and the absolutely dreadful day time TV.

Next  the storms came and the wall to wall lashing rain and even if I'd had the energy to get out into the fresh air with the dog I couldn't have gone. Even with her waterproof coat the dog abhors the rain and this was more like sleet.

What are the three most useful words? IT WILL PASS - when you are ecstatically happy it passes, when you are sad that passes too, and when you are full of cold it eventually goes - and life itself - well nothing lasts forever!

So here we are - a whole week gone and very little writing done - what a waste - but then the cold and lousy feelings are passing so next week I shall make up for lost time!