Oodles of cryptic crosswords arrived this morning - a treat from Dublin. I adore the Crosaire from the Irish Times.
So I've abandoned writing, and am sitting out on the terrace trying to think laterally. Let's face it, if you had the choice between writing a story populated by a depressive and a Sumerian demon, or doing a crossword designed by 'Guy with brain the size of planet', you'd go for option B.
The sun is creeping across the terrace; in about 45 minutes it'll hit the spot that marks 'beer time'.
Happy happy happy!