All the tatties are planted.

                        I'm loving having an allotment these days. Well, it's half an allotment these days, but that makes it more manageable. In fact, it's never looked better than it has today, the day I finished planting my potatoes. And what a variety! Maris Piper, Charlottes, Bambino, Cara, Picasso and King Edward.

                        I finished the latest book a week or so ago, and felt quite rejuvenated by it's completion. I think it's quite good and I might try to get it published by something other than Kindle. But there are good reasons not to bother. I don't need the money and I don't want the hassle of trying to find an agent, etc. But it might do some good, this book, if it fell into the hands of folk interested in meditating, so I feel I should make at least some effort.

                        I've given it to two folk to have a look at. This was probably as mistake, but I was very keen to get rid of it for a while somehow. Really, I should have just put it aside and got back to the thriller I put aside to write it. Didn't take me any time to write at all. The last time I wrote a book like that, Are You Boys Cyclists?, it did get published. This book just poured onto the machine and that makes me suspicious. Surely, a wait and then a re-write, but that last time I read it, all was well. Hmm?