I've just returned from a 12 day holiday in south west France, where we took in a few days' skiing, hiking, site-seeing and a visit to friends.
It was a lovely break, though one during which my writing muse completely left me.
I found myself wrestling so much with the French language, groping for words mid-sentence and looking like an asphyxiating fish, that my facility with written words in English disappeared as well.
As a result, on my return to my desk today I find my writing approach to be verbose, to say the least. English words are fighting for their position on the page, nudging and shoving and bumping each other like determined commuters on an over-crowded train.
Tomorrow I'm speaking to the Swindon Philosophical Society about hypocrisy. My talk is probably going to last about 40 minutes. This is a deliberate ploy to reduce the amount of time for questions - because sitting and concentrating and answering questions is exhausting if it goes on for too long.
Tonight is the first election debate featuring all the leaders of the 3 main parties. I am very excited. Great timing for my talk. No doubt there will be oodles of material to choose from.
Just hope they get their words out better than I could last week.
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