I’m afraid I’m turning into a spoilt brat

 I do like having visitors and just recently I’ve had so many and they’ve been such good company there were days when I felt like cheering or singing or being otherwise happily ridiculous.

This weekend my visitor was my lovely little sister Carole, whom I love to bits. We had two days of non-stop talk and good food and a giggling attempt to find a putter, because she’d lost hers. We didn’t find one but it  didn’t worry us, because instead of a successful shop, we had an even more successful walk down our own particular memory lane.

 

 

 

And now I’ve got another visitor coming to see me this weekend. She’s an old friend and fellow Blake expert called Josie McQuail and she lives in America so actual time spent with her is precious. We are going to see the Freida Hughes exhibition in Chichester and I’ve no doubt we shall talk books, because we have so many authors we enjoy and study, in common. The welcome mat is ready for you Josie.

 

 

And then, just to spoil me rotten, the little black cat called Dixie is coming to spend a week with me in a fortnight’s time, I must lay in stocks of salmon and cods roe, because he’s such a sweetie, he deserves the odd treat now and then. It will be lovely to have a cat sleeping alongside me at night and sitting on the dining table as we eat our meals together.

 

 

Then, of course, there are all my feathered visitors, who fight one another for tit-bits from the bird table and sing to me beautifully in the morning, led by my blackbird and are generally a delight. It’s always a surprise to look out into the garden and suddenly see part of the lawn move and realise that the woodpecker is back.

And is if all that weren’t riches enough, the novel of which I had despaired, even to the point of accepting that it would never see a bookshelf, is going to be published on September the 1st. Way-hey!