I have found it incredibly difficult to pick up my skirts and run the last distance to the end of the task. I've been sick; there's been snow; there have been other things crowding in. My usual writing place is in a lovely old shed at the back of the garden. With the earthquakes in Christchurch, the walls and door have shifted and now a howling wind blows through. That and the cold and wet and soggy garden made my writing space very undesirable. Here is the nice tidy WARM inside of that place.
I was bemoaning my lack of 'my space' within our house to a teaching collegue and she suggested I carve out one for myself right this minute (well, as soon as I got home from school). I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before. So, here I am, writing this to you from the corner of my bedroom
Now, the loo is across the hall; the kitchen (for my snacks and cuppas) is accessed by five strides and, if I'm in serious need of distraction, the living room with fire, telly and family are two doors away.
So, off to make a cup of tea, flex my fingers and begin to begin again.