A skein of glorious June weather here in Peterborough. This entire week has been a succession of sunny, summer days, not too hot and good for sleeping in the evenings. I'm building a roofed patio behind a house in Heritage park. The sky glows blue between the rafters. Robins bob nearby and I have visitations from a mushy, slobbering Rottweiler. She waits for me in the morning, loves me up, then, reassured that I'm at my post, returns to Mikey, her master. A literary agent, Sam Hiyate of the Rights Factory, has said he will have a look at Waking Up Gilligan. The niggling feeling that this could to something and the inbox vigil continue...
