I have some big things to write about - a miscarriage, a child undergoing surgery for a badly broken arm, moving house - but I don't know what to say about these yet, so I will let them rest and see what happens. I don't feel like doing a lot of things at the moment. I'm not really enjoying cooking and I have lost the compulsion to make art. I'm writing in little scrappy outbursts, but what I write, I like. There's a precision and ferocity to it. I think I am ready to start working on something new.
I don't feel as quick as I normally do. It's as if the world is moving at a pace that I can't match. I worry that I am missing details. I am reading slowly but with pleasure. My favourite time is at the end of the day, when I snuggle into bed with my daughter and read one or two chapters to her. The book we are reading together is far more exciting than the one I am reading on my own! I know this is a tough time and that it will pass. I'm fed up of the rain, of cold fingers, and no energy. I would like some spring sunshine and a new place to explore.