Breathing Space

The daydream was to go to Cuba and listen to music, music, music all day long: maybe to drive around in a beaten up 1950s American hire car.
No.
Then my close friend from long ago invited me to Lake Balaton for a holiday.
No.
Why?
Because all of August will be spent correcting the manuscript of a book that needs to be completed; I'll be sitting in the heat staring at the little screen, shifting text around, slash'n'burning.
There are four more academic articles in the pipeline, with expected (though welcome) editorial thrashings to come.
After that, that's it.
No more academic writing.
I want to be a songwriter, to collaborate in making music. I have already started doing this, and it's fun and lovely.
My small kitchen is going to become a studio. No more steamy cooking! The Roland JV1080 is going to emerge from its plastic cocoon, hook up to a computer and then let's see what happens.

Until then, I have two days 'off'.
I have been working two part-time jobs as well as writing, performing and taking the She-Punks film about the place; I have resigned from one of them to have more time for research.
That means much less money but much more time.
This morning I pretended that I was on holiday in another country, with nothing to do but drink coffee and read. Because it's hot, even the sounds are 'foreign'. The back garden reverb has abated, the crows are asleep, and the people who swear loudly as they walk past the front window have melted into muttering piles of sweaty grumbling.
More coffee Madame?
Yes plz!