Had a wonderful day writing in the university library, with a whole room-with-a-view in the North Front to myself because there was only one desk there, complete with plug.
I must have been inured to beauty when last in this building. I had forgotten its lovely faux Sumerian metalwork and painted timber ceilings, and bronze-gold entrance gate.
And yet at the same time everything is strangely functional and faded in terms of the books and their storage. They are frayed and yellowing, and yet new books are not joining them. It was quite affecting.
But it was very productive regardless. I reorganised the chapter breakdown, redid Chapter Twelve with the new insights, started a new Storyist project, and finished Thirteen. Not much left now at all. I left when I got too hungry to remain and came home around three-thirty.
Anyway, tomorrow I am going to hunt up a Norfolk community near the sea for Martin’s house. He now lives in Norfolk, somewhere called The Shoals, I think. It is brooding and scary and he has pictures of dead girls in it. Should be awesome, but I am worried it is too far out for what I want. Never mind, shall go out and see for myself…
