For some reason most of the important things that have happened to me occur in the autumn (the book deal with Gollancz this May being a notable exception).
This time two years ago I went off on the Big Trip (of which much more below, if you can be bothered to page down far enough). Unlike most autumn events of significance, which seem to be part of the randomness of life, my round-the-world jaunt was planned with military precision.
This time last year, going into a British winter with no holiday in sight and my writing at something of a nadir, I looked back at the Trip with naked yearning, though I ended up doing – and enjoying – National Novel Writing Month in November, and we did get to Portmeirion for Xmas. This year, with a book to finish and some of the advance for my first book already put aside for the Portmeirion festivities, I’m feeling only a slight nostalgia for past adventures.
The other thing that happens at this time of year is that my body, when not being sent off round the world, prepares to hibernate. I start to over-eat, high-cal junk food by choice, and consequently start to put on weight. I need at least an hour’s extra sleep each night. All of which would be fine if hibernation was actually an option…wake me up for Xmas, someone.
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