Working hard on book two. With my agent's wise words and suggestions it's becoming a complete thing rather than something scatter-gunned onto the page. But all of that work scrambles the brain and requires a break. So  took myself off for a river walk. Chilly. Autumn on its way. Great. Ignoring the bags of dog-do helpfully dotted around the place took  myself down to the fish quay and then back along to the Tyne Estuary. Low tide. The Black Middens trembling with shore birds. Up the bank to have a look at the sea and the benches with their little plaques. Found I wanted to read them all. Lived here for so long and never done that. Came back feeling as if I'd wandered around a cemetery, having wondered about those people behind the names, their stories. Rather lovely, rather peaceful. Brain unscrambled.