I’ve got to a (relatively) easy bit in ‘Consorts’. Stuff is happening and the characters are reacting – there’s not many ways things can go. As a result, I’ve not done much actual re-writing, more just tightening things up. By next week they’ll be making rods for their own backs again, which is more work for me as well.
Outside t’garret, it’s been a pants week. I’ve been in intermitent pain owing to a minor op that went wrong. And in the wider world, the new tax year, with the inevitable arrival of my self-assessment, is never a cause for joy. This year is even less pleasant, as the abolition of the 10% tax band means out 2 x low-income household is now poorer than ever.
And it gets worse. Both Beloved and I work part-time at a local engineering firm. It’s a small company founded by a husband and wife nearly thirty years ago. With their sixtieth birthdays looming, I had suspected there might be changes ahead, but we were both pretty shocked to discover, on Monday afternoon, that they had sold the company to a multinational rival. We’ve been assured our jobs are safe, but the next few months are likely to be very stressful.
Good job I’ve got fictional worlds to retreat too, say I.