At last

At last, I have pinged the send button and the book I have been struggling with has whizzed off to the publisher. I feel I can breathe out now. And.. relax. It's like taking tight shoes off.

Freedom! I have moved things around in the attic. I've removed dust from floors. This doesn't sound much fun, but when you've been dying to get on with these things and you can't because you're chained to a book, it really is fun to flit about sorting stuff, sweeping floors, putting things in boxes. Tony has just built a bookshelf. I can put books on shelves. What a happy little bunny I am.

When the sun has been out I've pitter-pattered round the garden popping in bedding plants and heaving out anything that wasn't serving its purpose. Anything allowed space in my garden has to look good, smell good, or be edible.

- EXCUSE ME!

Sorry, Much, I didn't mean you. Or your new friends Dodger and Oliver, or the stone tortoise which has also been here longer than we have and doesn't yet have a name. Anyway, you do look good. All of you.

- I knew that. Surprised you can even see me, with all them bloomin' cornflowers.

- Stop grumbling, Much. Do you want to know what's been happening in The Archers or don't you?

- Oh, go on then.

It's now about a month since Tom didn't marry Kirsty, and both of them have left Ambridge with Kirsty vowing she'd never come back. If I'd been stuck in such a ridiculous plot line I'd be on the first train out, too. Lilian's wet son James and Lynda's drippy stepdaughter Leonie are having a baby, which I suspect will be born with fins, so the two grandmothers to be are having a who-can-do-the-best-handmade-present competition. I suspect it needs a set of waterproofs, but Lynda made it a blanket out of her her own homespun llama wool from, yes, her very own llamas. Lilian was last seen knitting a - well, not even she knows what it is but if she drops any more stitches she's be arrested for littering. (By the new copper, who fancies Fallon.)