I have been away to the seaside for a few days. On my own. Virginia Woolf was right about needing a room of one's own, a bit of space to work. It's hard to concentrate when you are distracted by daily stuff - cooking, washing up, cleaning. There is always a reason for not getting on (although I still managed to find one of two). So I booked an austere room with no distractions - beds made, clean linen, no company other than the birds singing in the evening. I could even see the sea in the distance beyond the mirage of the plastic-covered strawberry fields. Not cottagey, not pretty, but quiet.
I did manage to spend some time on the beach, testing the temperature,
checking out the shops,
taking tea under the trees.
It seemed longer than three days.