I have been away for some time – not just from this blog, but from my everyday existence in the blustery North of England. For four weeks, actually. Tenerife, if I have failed to casually ‘mention’ it to you in person, by now.

It was good to spend time with my husband, whose ‘fault’ it was that we had to lounge in the winter warmth for so long (he clicked the wrong date when booking the flights, so we ‘had to’ stay for an extra week. Sheesh) It was great to spend time uninterrupted by the trivia of domestic life, even if  I had to prepare a salad or load the mini-dishwasher in our apartment occasionally.

And I got oodles of thinking and writing done, as the sun hit our sea-view terrace each afternoon, although I did – more than once- scare our neighbours with a snore/possible Mount Teide eruption,as I shut my eyes to picture a scene from my planned second novel (In my defence, drizzling a lettuce can be exhausting).

Now, it’s back to ‘normal’ – whatever that is – and to business. It’s easy to have sun-soaked,  sangria-soaked grand plans for your life and your writing, but the challenge is to make something sprout from them when you’re back to nurturing your creativity and frost-bitten suntan under a granny blanket,  desperately hugging a mug of Yorkshire Gold (What can I say? We’re posh – we sometimes even have Twinings Breakfast).

I have a love-hate relationship with challenges, but I can do this. Even in the foggy light of a Marske winter’s day, I feel it.