ah yes…again she sleeps. We spent the evening tussling with each other, grizzling (mainly Ceej) and feeding. I managed to get some more of the Seamus story down on paper. I enjoyed the scribbling, even if I did have to contort my neck, arms and legs into potentially back-burning positions in order to accommodate a dozing, clingy baby (too many people, too many cuddles). And my handwriting looks awful. Now that I type more than I write, I get into the sensual aspect of writing: only using a Cross or Mont Blanc fountain pen (both presents), blue-black or black ink, writing onto fresh, crisp blank notepaper of at least cartridge quality. The Seamus story occupies a Moleskine notebook that I bought in a pseudo-Chatwin fit last year. It is a thing of beauty (the notebook, not the story).

The story is in my usual sub-Hornby, neo-Amis style and most unsatisfactory, but I’m enjoying the puzzle of working out exactly what to do with these characters. Shay seems to leap out of my head and onto the page, and Mickey is slowly working himself into an amalgam of me, Mr P and a bit of my dad. I had some intricate, surreal setup involving cults and art theft, but I think I’m going to drop that for now and concentrate on the search for the promoter. I haven’t decided whether or not he dies yet. I’d like this story to be a bit of a setup for future capers.

So, this morning I had plans to nip into Lewisham, buy some bras (they’ve increased by one cup size since maternity – as if they weren’t big enough already), and raid Superdrug for baby supplies and toothpaste. But then somebody decided that staying awake at 5am was a great game. We took her into bed with us in an attempt to bore her to sleep, and she finally stopped wriggling and shouting cutely at 5.30am. Which gave us one whole extra hour. Whoopee. Now she’s making up for lost sleeping time, which leaves me a little non-plussed.


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