There are a few things that fall behind when you’re writing 12 books in 12 months.  One is housework in non-communal areas (all surfaces in our bedroom, including sections of the floor, are strewn with detritus, 75-90% of which is probably mine although it’s hard to get an accurate reading without conducting a proper excavation); and another is eating sensibly.

Continue reading “You’re Scottish, Fry Something”