Disruption

Rituals and routines can be so comforting. For many weeks now my days have had an agreeable rhythm. Hitting the keyboard at around eight in the morning, I was able to finish the English translation of a half-hour script at about two in the afternoon.

Then until five I was free to work on the manuscript of Seasonal Variance, spending quality time with my fascinating fictitious friends.

Then the 'cinq à sept' was not as inviting as in the original French sense but, weather permitting, I could while away a couple of hours with a couple of beers on the sidewalk at my neighbourhood café and, occasionally, enjoy quality time whenever my daughter spontaneously joined me there.

The evening routine involved putting together something to eat, cutting open a Chateau Tetrapack and picking up on the reading of the paperback in progress.

Now all this is to be rudely disrupted.

Today I finally completed the translation assignment.

Seasonal Variance has run into a writer's block cul-de-sac.

My daughter leaves at the end of the month to study in Holland.

Oh well, it was all really very pleasant while it lasted. That's the seductive effect of the rituals and routines one so easily comes to take for granted.