Daphne du Maurier wrote her first book here but I forgot to bring a pen so I’m writing this stupid blog instead

Fowey is not pronounced Fow-ee. That’s the most surprising thing about this small Cornish fishing town. Everything else is exactly as it should be. Steep narrow streets, quaint cafes offering Cornish cream teas, crooked 16th century pubs, seagulls, little shops (selling postcards, chunky jewellery, floaty dresses and those tiny wooden sailing ships you’re supposed toContinue reading “Daphne du Maurier wrote her first book here but I forgot to bring a pen so I’m writing this stupid blog instead”

On writing, social media and the impending end of Lent

I’m irritating myself. Everything I do irritates me. I’m irritating myself by writing this blog because I sat down to write my story and look what’s happened. Really I should be packing, or throwing all my old stuff away because we’re moving house in a couple of days, but I’ve just remembered I have aContinue reading “On writing, social media and the impending end of Lent”