I'm in Charleston South Carolina. Pelicans have flown by, the fan on the back porch is moving the air around, and I am sitting in a rocker with a cold beer, dependant on the kindness of strangers. Not actually strangers, but my stepson and daughter in law who have invited us to share their holiday with them. There's a pool and a golf buggy in case we can't be arsed to walk the hundred yards to the beach.
I haven't written a word since 26th June. My notebook is unopened. I haven't had a creative thought in weeks. Oh, the guilt, the guilt.
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