Books, falls and physio

Dear me, I must be getting old - I actually slipped and fell in the bath today, which is something I've never done before. And, goodness me, but my shoulder felt it - though, luckily, the pain soon wore off. And it did have its exciting side - I've never seen such a wonderful tidal wave effect so nearby. Not that I'm built like a blue whale preparing for its winter hibernation, I hasten to add. We just have a rather small bath. That's my theory anyway, and I'm sticking to it ... Anyway, no harm done, and I'll try not to repeat the experience. (Makes mental note to go easy on the bath oils in future.)

And there's good news about today - in spite of dreading the return to writing again, my day spent on Hallsfoot's Battle has actually not been too bad. I've added in a couple of extra sections focusing on what the mind-executioner is up to while Simon's in the Gathandrian Library, which I think adds tension, and I'm all set to tackle Ralph and the Lammas Lands again tomorrow. So another 1000 words done, which brings me up to 54,000, or 54,023 to be precise. Not that I'm a sad Word Count Obsessed Git or anything, of course ...

I've also decided to "just do it" and have got myself the flu jab at Tesco Pharmacy - at last! The trained pharmacist appeared to be a boy of 18 (or perhaps that's just my advancing years again?) but no ill effects so far and at least that's another thing ticked off my winter list. Now all I have to face is Christmas - arrrggghhhh!!! How I hate Christmas - and yes I know that's probably terrible for a Christian to admit (even a casual one like me), but it's true. It fills me with dread each year. So many things to get right (or wrong!) before the holiday itself - I'm constantly astonished how people get through it at all. Bah, humbug! and all that. Hey ho, and roll on, January. As they say.

This afternoon, I've had another physio session with the lovely Helen and once again everyone is pleased with my progress. Heck, I can even do my own bra strap up now - though not immediately after I get up. I have to let the arm warm up for a while before I ask it to do tricks. Only fair, I suppose. Anyway, Helen has booked another appointment for me next Tuesday and wants me to hit a few golf balls on the range this Sunday to see how things are working - makes sense to me. I can do with the practice anyway (oh, how much!) and I'd rather start back with the golf gently than plunge right into the swing of it (as it were) at once.

And there's more good news on the Thorn in the Flesh front - some kind person has actually ordered 7 copies via Gardner's, which has caused great shock and astonishment here in the home counties. Goodness me! - many thanks indeed, Kind Person, and I hope you enjoy the read sevenfold. That's more than I sell in a year, normally - of all my books. Whoever you are, you've made a struggling author very happy indeed - thank you x7.

Ooh, and I must say that I've just finished what is definitely and utterly my Book of the Year, and one which everyone must immediately rush out and buy. Linwood Barclay's No Time for Goodbye is completely and utterly BRILLIANT and a tour de force of humane crime writing. I couldn't put it down and I loved the characters. The main character, Terry, is wonderful and has some truly excellent moments, and it's a first-class mystery too. I was gripped from sentence one, and the ending is perfect and made me weep like a child over my breakfast Oatibix this morning. Go buy it - even if you don't like crime novels and you hate the thought of a (said through very gritted teeth ...) Richard & Judy recommended read (arrgghh!), go and read it. You won't regret it. And Linwood Barclay's other novels are now most definitely on my To Read & Soon Pile.

Today's nice things:

1. Creating bathroom tidal waves
2. Getting back to Hallsfoot (hello, Simon - it's been a while; good to see we're still talking)
3. Ticking flu jab off my list
4. Physio
5. Selling 7 copies of Thorn - well, gosh!
6. Reading a truly marvellous book.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website - creating a wave of its own