I’ve not done any writing, recently. Partly, it’s family issues keeping me busy, and partly a, well, disinclination to do any writing at the moment. But I’ve been walking and reading, when I’ve had the time, and had the occasional beer with friends. This afternoon I took a walk through the woods nearby. They’re nothing special, in the sense that there are many other patches of woodland like them, although they’re all special, really. I just enjoyed being there.

But having said I’ve been disinclined to write, I’m looking forward to getting stuck into writing a new novel shortly. Don’t get too excited, though, if the last one is anything to go by it’ll be ten years before it’s finished. But there will be trees and darkness, a bit of the occult, and who knows what else. A hero, I suppose. I guess there has to be one of those. Or maybe a heroine instead.

We’ll see. I’m hoping the walking and reading and beer will inspire me.

Nothing special…

At certain times of the day the woods are quiet, the dog walkers back home, and that’s when I prefer to go out.

There was plenty of birdsong, lots of birds out. Nothing special, but again they’re all special. Blackbirds, robins, blue tits, a raven…I walk past the portal to a nether world – I always speed up a bit here – then head towards the stream. I have no aim other than to eventually return home.

And as the German poet Novalis said, we are always going home.