For days on end this cock was my friend. While I was working up my notes, read old letters and made new notes (part of the research for my third novel), the cock was clearing his throat continuously. My place of isolation and concentration wasn’t as quiet as it used to be.
Nearby the house I found some new chairs for the collection.
Still no news from the film forefront. I just keep my fingers crossed. This is causing me sore fingers. Right now my hand is covered in bandage. Perhaps this crossing is not the only reason?