Spent last week in what must be the ugliest castle in Scotland. it was pebble-dashed, stained green, with small windows. Like a large, castle-shaped counci house. Inside it was suprisingly warm, but rather like being in an Addams Family film set, with clanking doors, rattling windows, and towers and turrets. I was there with the lovely poet Linda France…we would have been just as happy in a little cottage with flouncy curtains, but the castle had been booked from a long time ago, and there were meant to be four of us there, but various things had got in the way. Strange though. Did plenty of work, and had lots of deep hot baths.
I had the dog, Heidi, with me as Newcastle is like a war zone with firework parties. I’m sick of it. What’s it all about? People trying to own the sky?
While I was away I missed a programme ojn the tv called Does Healing Work…..did anyone out there tape it? I really want to find a copy. The new novel explores this territory.
No more news. It’s hard to adapt to life after the castle. I keep walking into walls.