If the police interviewed me about what I was doing last night? I suspect they’d be mighty bored.
I don’t do a whole lot. Last night I was reading Headhunters by Jo Nesbro. The night before that I was reading A Green Place for Dying by R.J. Harlick, and a couple of days before that it was A Killer Read by Erika Chase.
You get the picture. I have an old TV with a pair of rabbit ears on the top (do you even know that they are?) so I get one channel, sometimes. I might turn the TV on for something important, but a year can go past without me checking if it’s working. I buy the occasional DVD. I used to watch it on my computer, but my daughter leant me a DVD player. That’s exciting. I most recently watched Sherlock Season Two, which I thought great. Before that: Downton Abbey.
But I’m not complaining, far from it. I’m living the dream the way I’ve wanted for a long time.
The simple writer’s life in a small house on a small country property.
Now if I had been travelling over the night in question, that might be a different matter! Because when I’m away from home I do like to kick up my heels (not that I wear heels any more) a bit.
I was in London last week, and here are a couple of pictures. I’m in a nice restaurant with a book (Dead Scared by S.J. Bolton – you can even read the page) and a glass of good wine, awaiting a delicious meal of mushroom risotto. Another evening I went to the theatre. Saw Rock of Ages, an eighties-style rock musical. Loved it. (Also loved it when I discovered that in London you can take your drink to your seat. They even serve beer directly to your seat, as if you’re at a ball game or something).
Where was I last night, Officer?
Depends on where you’re asking.