It’s June and this is my garden. There are rain drops on the patio table the chairs are soaking wet, the geranium droop and Rufus, the concrete dog, is growing an ever thicker coat of moss.
Where would I rather be?
I think the answer to that is easy.
That not being possible, I have to find other ways of cheering up this grey day. The advantage of being a writer is that all I have to do is go upstairs to my office and I can create whatever environment I want. I, or my protagonist, can be on beach, at the top of a mountain, in the past, the future, on a different planet, the permutations are endless. So, I am off to a hot Summer afternoon in a Georgian terrace overlooking the river in Bristol.