Here in country Victoria on a writer's retreat, I can't believe how cold it is - raining too. I have to work at my keyboard wearing fingerless gloves - very expensive European fingerless gloves.
Ah well, I get to use the word 'dreich' a lot; a word that I had thought I had abandoned when I left Scotland.
Woodend is the nearest small town. It is an early settlers town of lovely oldish (old for Australia) buildings, good cafes, superior food shops and many expensive boutiques. It must be the retail scarf capital of the world.
Many Australians tell me that the area must remind me of Scotland. No, there are too many kangaroos for that, and parrots and strange trees and odd landscape. But the local charity shop did have two kilts on sale when I looked in.
What is most striking about the landscape is this rock mass, Hanging Rock. yes, THAT Hanging Rock of book and film fame. A crumbling extinct volcano, even driving past, it has an eeriness about it that makes the tales all the more believable. And yes, it is a true story, the schoolgirls did disapear in the early 1900s. Must remember never to wear a school uniform in the vicinity.

Good news on the bookfront - I am beginning to enjoy editing and reading second book.
Even better news - early sales of A Small Death in the Great Glen are going well.
Mar sin leibh an dras da (Ta Ta for now in Gaelic)
Tam biet (see you later in Vietnamese)