. . . outside our house in the Loire, and it could be a very, very grey, dark, sombre, frightening, depressing, worrying, daunting, disheartening, alarming, dreadful, awful, horrific, ghastly, hideous, petrifying, bleak, saddening, funeral, dispiriting, joyless, oppressive, dismal, alarming world if the American people (or half of them) vote for an ancient, sun-damaged, racist villain instead of an intelligent, empathetic, educated woman.
It's not looking hopeful . . .
It wasn't Going Out in the Midday Sun - written in 2010; it was actually the small volume (moth-soft exercise book from my junior school days) that I've been looking for whilst Mark has been building my website. as I wished to feature an early work . . .
I knew it was somewhere but just as I know that my collection of short stories written in place of a thesis for my film and photography degree is/was somewhere it stubbornly remained hidden, until just now . . . it's good to have a purge and or rearrangement of stuff - there it was clamped between Far From the Madding Crowd and a tome on retro London.
