A Writer's Life

It's August, my birthday month, school and uni holidays and - in the Lake District - often one of the wettest months of the year.  This year the summer so far has been hotter than a witch's cauldron and tinder dry. My office is too hot to work in, so I've migrated down to my bedroom (it's an upside down house!) which has a big window opening onto the river bank and a nice breeze blowing through.

I'm not doing much blogging or Facebooking this month - it's time for reading, relaxing (alcohol is involved here) and enjoying the smallest members of my family who come to stay. The Girl is working at a local hotel, making beds and cleaning up after tourists. Neil is in Italy (hotter than a pizza oven) house-sitting for a friend and trying to get some sculpture done. I'm copy-editing a book for the autumn, in fits and starts (mostly stops), and working on some new poems.  I found the above poem by John Updike online and it immediately reminded me of Fleur Adcock&…