Since I woke this morning, the rain has poured - a deluge that would even have Noah worried. As I write, my son is standing in the rain with his school waiting for a glimpse of the torch. Or rather the freebies he has been promised as the only possible inducement for being there.
Meanwhile, down the road in Garstang, my daughter is waiting to see her friend Laura carry the torch through the town. I can only hope she packed a coat.
And me? I'm snug in my office waiting for the live video coverage. I can't help thinking I've got the better deal.
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A few weeks ago Lancaster library hosted a Dickens Readers Day. I nearly didn't go, but I'm very glad I did. From a choice of work...
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For the past few weeks I've felt as though I've been living in some kind of creative desert. I haven't written any prose ...
I've been invited by my college to stand on the banks of the Cam at 5.30 am one Sunday morning to watch the torch pass. Why so incredibly early? It seems odd to say the least. I will watch the news later in the day!
ReplyDeleteYes, that is a tad early. I must say that everyone I know who watched the flame passing enjoyed it, despite the weather.
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