It's shaping up to be the hottest summer in a long time... the washing's drying fast, the grass has gone yellow, and there's a threatened water shortage, but I'm not complaining (much) because it's rare to see blue skies and sunshine for days on end, and it'll be Christmas before we know it, and then I'll be moaning about the cold again.
Talking of which, I'm currently editing my Christmas book, the third and final novel in my Seashell Cove series. It's not easy to picture tinsel, Santa, fairy lights and carol-singers when the mercury's hit 31 degrees, I'm mainlining Magnum ice-creams and fake-tanning my shins after every shower. I was in a similar situation last year, and once again have resorted to listening to Christmas songs, which messes with your head a bit when the sun is beating down.
Once this book is done, I'll be out of contract, so am looking forward to a chat with my editor to see what's next - if anything. So far, my books have sold over 80,000 copies, which is a figure I could only have dreamed about a couple of years ago, so I'm hopeful. But, if a new contract isn't forthcoming, I've plenty more ideas up my sleeve - if I were wearing sleeves at the moment - and it certainly won't be the end of my writing career.
In the meantime, I'd better go and bring in the washing I hung out ten minutes ago.