Around two-and-a-half years back, I visited paris. Last week was the first time I’ve visited liverpool since I left there in 2009.
I imagined it’d be strange, staying at the home of someone who turned up in august’s ‘dystopian’ novel as an ill-tempered and racist scousewife (although only the ‘scouse’ bit has any real basis in reality!)
More pressingly, that’s me finished work now for a few days and, apart from the domicile-restructuring I have pencilled in for the next day or two, I plan on kicking back. Long lies, soaky baths, rnr.
It was national short story day today – I didny get a thing written but might well tomorrow.

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