No-one ever said writing was easy, 

or quick, or anything really, other than 

what it is: an exercise in dogged 
persistence. I have just got to the end 

of novel 1 (feel free to raise a cheer); it has 

taken 14 months, 7 months to finish draft 1, 

and (this surprised me) a further 7 months 

for redrafts and polishing. It's READY TO GO.

Part of the writer's displacement activity 
- to go to Robert Dyas and find out
what new gadgets they've got in. 

The Institute of Contemporary Arts goes Retro

The ICA has a sound installation

in its ground floor exhibition space 

(I was there only for a quick coffee). At the same

time they have taken down the false interior 

wall, opening up these beautiful windows.

All hail those splendid architects

who are getting on their bikes:

may it inspire the others.

Further, I am contemplating volunteering
my poetic pedestrian lungs to try
out one of those Totobobo SuperCool
anti-pollution masks, if I can find one,
over the month of July.

Summer, summer, where are you?

Sitting at desk wearing a fleece

hoodie and boots. Trying very hard
to remember it's summer. 

Cafés with squishy sofas are the best

My secret writers' café

Islington on a summer's evening

. . . and not too many vehicles on the roads to spoil things

(http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/246495.php)

Nature in the city

A nice bit of topiary above these balconies