End of class

Home time after another fascinating session in our London-based novel-writing class headed by Erin Kelly, a novelist who was launching a new book that day (but hadn't told anyone). Maybe she should have been at a launch party but she chose to spend her time with us. Liam, one of my class mates, who comes over each time from the west country where he has a pub, presented her with a bottle of champagne on behalf of all of us (so generous on two fronts). I'm not sure whether he was the only one of us who knew about the launch, but the gesture was entirely his own. Now that's what I call style.

You'd think (as I did) a long career in journalism would equip anyone with all they need to know about writing. But it doesn't teach you about novel-writing. I still have much to learn but, believe me, the sponge is soaking it all up, every little drop.

It was a long day and I was hurrying for the train so really had very little to blip. These daily blips will have to give way soon to "now and thens".

I'm very impressed with the standard of writing among my classmates. They're good, they're committed, and I'm sure that many of them will succeed.