Writing this diary is a good reality check for me, as it makes me realise that somehow I do get things done, even though it never seems like I’m getting anywhere. Since the last entry, I have not only done a rough draft for the current book, but six chapters of the first draft which is due at the end of March, and it feels as if I have been writing it for ages. Martha and Lewis and the two babies are now quite familiar and I am in love with their house, which has a verandah and ceiling fans and the Indian Ocean at the bottom of the garden. For the moment, all seems to be going suspiciously easily and I can’t help thinking that the plot will be lost very soon. I’ve usually been through several crises by this stage, and am not used to feeling so calm when I’m in the middle of a book. I’m getting nervous waiting for my come-uppance!

Am off to London in half an hour to stay with the object of my affections for the next couple of weeks, so rushing to get this done before I go. The plan is for me to spend the day writing with no distractions: no dog, no cats, no phone calls, no friends to lure me out for coffee/gin, and not even household chores as a displacement activity. It’s amazing how appealing the ironing can be when you’re stuck in the middle of a chapter. So in theory I will be able to finish the last four chapters while I am there, although in practice I am not usually very good at writing during the day, or at a strange computer, so I will have to see how I get on. I may be setting myself up for my come-uppance after all…