I wonder if any of of the restaurant staff who have served me in the last few days have been asking me this question. I got very good service from Ecco Vino, but I think that was more down to the waitresses just being naturally that way in a very pleasant wine bar off (perhaps my favourite) Cockburn Street. More likely they wouldn’t have paid me any different attention, but it’s a nice thought as one sits with one’s leather bound notebook writing the novel between courses.
I’ve got lots written this week (chapter three is about one sixth complete ^__^), and I’m enjoying walking round town and finding an agreeable place to lay my book and and write.
Current wordcount: 38,924
“He left my grandfather’s house for University and never returned. As children, Eyrún and I, we remember a few holidays, Christmas – and maybe a couple of summers. My father was in love with the city. He was not a farmer.”
As he’s been talking Guðni has been handling his whisky glass, moving it round between his fingers. He now stares into it, watching the light reflect across the surface. Suddenly he drops it. To the table it falls, and he strokes the rim once.
“I love the old house. So do the kids, Helen, Ben – I made sure they would love it too. You can lose yourself there.”
