1,617 words isn't bad, considering they were done by noon, when I went off to swim.
It was not a good day to start because first thing I drove my son David to Victoria Coach Station. 'You said you would, Mum', he claimed, when I raised my eyebrows last night. It meant, apparently, that he'd felt free to get heavy gifts for girl-friend Natalie, back in Belgium. She'll meet the Eurostar at the other end.
So what with that and a post-operative friend who rang for a chat about how get enough sustenance on a liquid diet at the same time as not upsetting the gut, the morning's output represents just three half-hour sessions, timed on my digital timer.
Wow! I can type 1,000 words in an hour -in theory. In practice, because of my arthritic leg I have to move around every half hour. And take breaks.
This wasn't from scratch, though. It's five pages typed up from an existing manuscript - printed on a dot-matrix printer c. 1987. What a wonderful year that was - I took a year off from that horrid school and wrote a novel! Well, a first draft.
That's why it's a cheat - but I'll just join in the action, not claim to be a winner when all's done.
Only thirty five more pages to type up and then I can go on to phase 2 of my plan.
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