Dad writes from the UK: 7 of us took the Tube to London central last night for supper and then went walking around for a while . Clearing up today and going up to + 7C

Brad sighs with pitiful melancholy: Well, I took the skytrain to work. Then I stood in the cold for a while, waiting for a bus, after sitting through a two hour budget meeting last night. So there.

whats.that.word.again

I found a little cafe while waiting for things last night and — after feeding Mr. V with some fresh triple-ehs — I sat down to write the climax of my novel. Has anyone ever written the climax of a novel before? Because, let me tell you, all at once it is the easiest and most difficult part of writing a book. Easy? Well, I know the characters now. There won’t be a time I know them much better than at the end, when they are facign down their demons, and resolving all their conflicts. I know them. I understand them. I can feel what they — yeah, okay, you get the point. Difficult? Everything needs to fit together here. It’s like building a house, but by nailing boards together where you think they should go. After it’s almost done you step back to look at it — and wonder if there is a place for the roof.

If all goes according to plan, tonight the roof will be shingled, and I’ll finally have a life again.