A Night in the Literary Life of Aunt Grizelda

Midnight: Am awoken by the next door neighbours practising their cackling exercises – an annoying but necessary part of their profession. Ten minutes later, a whoosh as they take off on their customised vacs. A peek out of the belfry window reveals they are still not wearing crash helmets – neither have they had seat belts fitted. Make mental note to send them latest copy of the Skyway Code and invent a witch’s hat-shaped helmet.

12.30: Slide out of bed and partake in a cup of black tea then make my way to chaise- longue to recline and muse mournfully. Decide to write an Icelandic Saga.

2.00: Start writing Icelandic saga. Name the hero Knut. His tragic flaw is a phobia of blades. His enemy is a sword wielding half-wolf half-troll warrior. It won’t end well.

2.30: Finish Icelandic saga. It didn’t end well. Ruefully regret the declining popularity of the Icelandic saga. Return to chaise and languish a while.

3.30: Finish languishing and set up ouija board to speak to agent. Am informed by her PA she’s in a meeting with William Caxton. Isn’t it time she got out of the 15th century? Consider looking for a more modern agent. Wonder who Bram Stoker uses.

3.45: More mournful musing to the sound of Leonard Cohen’s Famous Blue Raincoat.

4.00: Take Fang and Baskerville for a lurk over the moors. Baskerville chases a boggart. Thankfully doesn’t catch it. Gloomy thoughts accompany return to the belfry.

5.00: A light snack of shadows marinated in tears. Dolefully delightful.

5.30: Back at desk to pen next chapter in my forthcoming non-fiction title: Bringing Up Your Changeling from Its Unexpected Appearance in the Cradle to its Mystifying Disappearance Some Time Later.

6.15: Contemplate desolate view from belfry window. First glimmers of dawn. Lower veil and strike a mournful pose. Note with horror ceiling is entirely bare of cobwebs. Must have word with maid. Hear bats returning from a night’s hunting. Look out and see them assume formation in shape of a shark in hunting frenzy. Very realistic.

7.00: Bitterly sour cup of wolfsbane cordial before bed – delightful. Close shutters against the irritating sunshine, retire to four poster and having congratulated myself on productive night, drift off into a sombre slumber.

Aunt Grizelda’s Belfry.

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