What can I tell you this morning? Not a great deal. We had another quiet day at home yesterday, and I finished the rough first draft of a new mystery, except for about two page,s which I will get done this morning. Then, I can start on the editing and produce a draft two. If you are in any way at all interested in the process, I wrote an article about how I write these stories, and it’s on my other website. You can read it here: How I Write a Novel.
That was my yesterday morning taken care of. I’m still finding it a drag to get back to work in the afternoons, mainly because it’s still not quite warm enough, and part of me doesn’t want to put the heating on in there for more than a few hours in the morning because of the cost. Not long to go now, though, and I will be able to reshape my days and spread what I cram into a morning into a whole day.
For the past two/three months, my routine has been to get up, cup of tea, take to office, heater, do blog (while still waking up, so it’s as good as you’re going to get for this time of day), check emails (so fewer now I have got rid of outlook and don’t use Mailwasher, had had to get rid of the @symidream emails for the time being), see if there is any admin to do such as book promos, answering posts on social media, advertising as best I can, checking book sales, making a stronger cup of tea, saying good morning to the husband and running through the usual checklist: sleep alright? How many times did you have to get up during the night? What you doing today? We always ask the same blunt trauma questions first thing in the morning and always get the same reply. And then back to the typowriter and on to the next section of whatever mystery I am creating. Battle on until around 11.00, take two hours off for lunch during which we watch a couple of TV shows, and then… Well, not quite back to work yet, but sometimes it’s back to doing something useful, and the next thing you know, it’s sofa time again, and I’m vegging with a film or two until bed at 21.30.
The routine is broken now and then by a quick walk, though that hasn’t happened for a while, or shopping, visiting the Rainbow once or twice a week, or attending a quiz (though that will have to stop for us soon), and pottering around the house or courtyard. Quiet, lazy, plenty of time before the summer season, and before Neil goes back to work – though never as much time as you think there is.
Others are already working hard. The digger trundles past for eight hours a day. The sounds of building work and transportation are everywhere. The supply ships coming in, the ferries, vans delivering, noisy mopeds, parents and children passing to and from the Προνήπιο (Pronipio) and Νήπιο (Nipio) above us on the hill – the kindergarten years one and two. We’re not seeing the village Square so busy yet, though the boys have been out playing football of an early evening, and the cafes are open. It’s just that no-one’s sitting outside as yet, but they will be soon. There were a couple of boats in the harbour the other day, I mean, what looked like private sailing yachts, and we have already seen a few day-trippers from Rhodes, so as far as some places are concerned, the season has already started.
Now, I must go and unplug our water pump. The soldier downstairs is still away on leave, so that means we don’t have the pleasure of his laughter and singing coming from below, but he’s gone and left a tap dripping so the pump continues to kick in every 10 to 15 minutes, and the only way to stop it driving me mad is to unplug it when we’re not using it. I imagine Violetta over the road and Agapitos next door don’t want to hear it running through the night, and neither do I. So, when that’s done, it’s back to the last few pages of a book with no title, though I may call it, ‘A Night of Opposites.’ And on with Wednesday we go…
