writers retreat

 I woke with power this morning. It is still bitterly cold. But the fire is lit and the heater in the writing room is cranked to full noise. I have a beanie with a pompom on the top that is often too warm and a pair of fingerless thermal gloves.  I will survive this cold. […]

 I woke this morning and there was no power.  There was no warmth outside the bed which was heated by me and the portable water bottle, Kevin (the dachshund). My mind raced thinking that perhaps I had done something, left something overnight, that had caused the power to trip.  I looked out of the winder

Kevin, Ghostwriter  I did it.  I did something that makes this writing thing cost money. As well as time.  For the next three days, I am staying in a little house in the middle of nowhere that has a kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, and a tiny art studio (there is a lounge with a TV too,