Fig.1 My nemesis: a feather duvet
Abandoning a feather filled duvet in the B&B 'retreat' in Devon for health reasons (asthma) I find my feet tucked, contained and strapped into place like it was the 1960s and I'm eight years old and sleeping over at my Granny's house.
The efforts to learn how to write a novel are thus far proving highly productive: one 3000 word scene written, substantial plotting, seven further scenes concieved with another two reaching the 1000 word mark, two key characters established with a third making his presence felt.
All would be fine except next week sees my head back against the grindstone and L120 over my shoulder. The trick would be to do it all in French.