I'm now ensconsed in compiling research material for a second novel and I'm drowning in it! The coffee table is smothered with old family photos and the floor is hidden beneath piles of logbooks and papers relating to World War II Bomber Command.
In the meantime (and this is more serious), there is a standoff between me and a very persistent mouse. I was curled up on the sofa doing a spot of editing when it crawled out from behind a cabinet and stuck two fingers up at me. Then it shot into the bathroom. I ran straight in behind it but it had disappeared. I shut the door and sealed the gap with a towel. It still escaped. I set traps full of chocolate and it’s managed to sneak the chocolate out of the tray without tripping the mechanism. I've sealed up every hole I could find, whether in the skirting board or around pipes, and I still caught it red-handed having a rummage through my fruit bowl. I now have snipers, grenades and a back up of ten highly trained armed men stationed in the kitchen. If all else fails, I'm going to ask it to be my agent.