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I was lucky enough recently to go away with a group of friends to a lovely place where we just wrote, and talked, and thought and imagined, and write, and wandered, and mulled and wrote, and drifted, and bought books, and wrote…

We stayed in a beautiful very old farm which was inspiring in itself, it exuded peace and calm which left minds open and receptive to ideas and with no distractions, apart from glorious views, which were a focus for pondering and thinking before settling back to what we were writing.

There were fresh flowers on the windowsills, some wild and freshly gathered from the sunny banks outside, and a plate of freshly made bakestones, otherwise known as Welsh cakes . They were so delicious they disappeared very rapidly… if I’d thought about it properly, I should have bought some flour and currants when we dropped down to the…