Warm words

After two months of floods of biblical proportions, the sun has finally got his hat on. Though I'm not sure it's his thinking cap.

I don't know about you but the last few days of sunshine have done nothing for my concentration. Stuck in an office that has bars on the windows, a view of a car park and a budgetary ban on water coolers, the last thing I feeling like doing come 5 o'clock is rushing home to work on my word count.

Following last night's dinner (on a tray, in a deckchair, in the garden) I found myself kicking off my shoes, topping up my glass of Tio Pepe and getting in the mood for my up and coming honeymoon to Andalucía. Boyfriend looked most pleased to have some company as he cracked open another beer and wiggled his toes in the grass.

All very nice but the novel isn't going to write itself is it?

The lazy part of me whispers ‘so what, leave it till after the wedding, it’ll be nice to have something to focus on.’ Naughty girl.

But the tyrannical part of me (the very same part that’s imposed a time consuming pre-wedding skin care and fitness regime) is less sympathetic. ‘I don't care if you haven’t seen the sun for weeks!’ she screams with military coldness, ‘Get out of the garden and onto the computer. But not before you drop and give me twenty.’

So, which voice will win? I’ve always found warm words the most persuasive…