under another sun

By the end of the day I ended up despising everything I'd ever written, which happens once in a while. It can be useful to look at your work in a cold and sneering way but it is rarely comforting. The trouble is writing is not a choice, it is a condition. Meanwhile, in the world of successful writers... I am still laughing at a quote by Steven King, that 'J.K.Rowling never met an adjective she didn't love'. I also finished  Joseph Anton , listening to it on my iPod as I did laundry and other things. Salman Rushdie's account of his under the fatwa, I found over-long, indulgent and boring in parts, but it was also completely fascinating in others, and something I will remember reading for a long time. I suspect Rushdie is a likeable one to one, but seems to have a knack of rubbing people up the wrong way. Spoke to Mum, who had to go to hospital for an appointment, but she had packed a bag just in case. Luckily she was immediately returned to the wild. Very pleas...

Monday and looking forward to getting on with my work, and doing some more decorating. I spoke to Keith, as I am covering for Pat who is on hols. Also took myself off for another walk today. I noticed, however, that I had bruised two of my toes when walking with Anton, as I hadn't laced my boots properly. A schoolboy error. Nice to have an interlude of walking about in the woods around the golf course. I you know where you are going you can have quite a bit of a walk under trees. Then I walked down to Preston Park, where I had a cup of tea, and thought about the writing I'm doing. Then back to my desk after a shower. Spoke to Mum and cooked supper. My Mondays are the luckiest Mondays in the world. Am listening to Joseph Anton by Salman Rushdie, his account of living under the Fatwah. Up high near the golf course, a view of shining streets below.