I wake up early to write, but it’s almost immediately a bad idea. I’m starting a new story. As usual I’m tremendously excited about this particular story, but the gulf between the story in my head and what’s emerging in the first draft is vast. It’s always vast. It’s why I much prefer editing. Also, I’m definitely not completely entirely awake. I retreat back to bed as soon as the opportunity arrives, which ends up being about three hours after I first got up.
I emerge again when our friends arrive for a crafternoon. In some ways its the ideal social event for me: I get to enjoy the company of my friends, but since I don’t tend to crafternoon I can just sit back and passively enjoy the socialising. Meanwhile, the Kinderbeast and I watch Frozen (the Elderbeast, conversely, is sufficiently inspired by the event to sit with the grown-ups and do some crafting – which pleases me).
My infection is clearly abating as I end up being inspired enough to convert the Kinderbeast’s bed to a bunkbed, as promised about two weeks’ earlier. This is fairly simple, being an IKEA bed, and the Kinderbeast proves to be a worthy assistant. At the end of the project he is exceedingly happy, and proceeds to show off his new bed to our guests with exhaustively repetitive glee.
For the evening we make the decision to watch the most recent episode of Sherlock, The Lying Detective, since it’s almost inevitable that the much-mooted big twist will be spoiled for us as soon as the subsequent episode airs. It’s another fine episode. Toby Jones’s character is at once fascinating, compelling and sickening. It’s a smart episode that makes you second-guess everything, and I end up wanting to watch it again as soon as it’s finished (but I don’t).