Suffolkating: Partying Hard in Old Front Bottom
"As Christmas approaches all I seem to do is shuttle between house and station in the dark, rain, sleet and dead badgers on the windscreen, huddling in the cold at Newmarket station (the most foul, loathsome train station in the multiverse) or if there are no trains drive to Cambridge for the early London shuttle. I never even see the green fields and woodlands around our new home, let alone visit any country pubs. I never have time to even start work on my synopsis (never my strong point) let alone work on the book. Added to which I'm constantly exhausted, my Canary Wharf clothes are covered in mud and the eye-wateringly expensive oil for the heating seems to be evaporating at an astonishing rate. Still, mustn't grumble..."
READ THE REST OF MY LATEST SUFFOLKATING COLUMN HERE