“Hidden, oh hidden/in the high fog/the house we live in/beneath the magnetic rock/rain – /rainbow-ridden…”

- Elizabeth Bishop, “Song for the Rainy Season”

Recently I managed a much-needed visit with the Non-Resident-Non-Teenager (NRNT). What better way to lift the fog?

Between visits and glimpses of sun there was time for some writerly indulgences and observations:

- My pen exploded ink all over my fingers and notebook. Will I ever learn to leave the gel-pens at home?

- Quattro Book’s spring launch, a chance to see what their new authors are up to, and to squeeze a few hugs from the Quattri themselves.

- The view from my hotel window: Curdled clouds, a mother-of-pearl sky reflected in the roof puddles, a tease of lowering sun. A squat church of sooted stone, gaudy windows all out of proportion; oversized doors and windows, a chunky steeple. Solid and homely, this place of worship.

- An evening stroll in a neighbourhood of my youth in a city that is still mine and yet not mine, the same but different.

- A day spent on an island with relatives and sunshine, both welcome rarities as we don’t see enough of these days. A corgi puppy thrown in the mix for everyone’s enjoyment.

- Time spent mining my past for the sake of understanding someone else’s (fictional) past, which led to a few story breakthroughs, always a relief.

- A sense of being restored by the company of my beloved NRNT.

- Fog lifted.