Two birds with one stone. Why voyage all the way up, just to come all the way back down again knowing that you're going to have to go all the way back up again? So I'm spending a week in Scotland. Driving up Friday, avec Sprotster and bumming around until the 2nd and getting home in time to pick up the 'rents from Heathrow on the 3rd. Such a simple thing really. What was stopping me was my deluded belief that I'd get more work done at home. Which is untrue. The extra 20 or so hours of driving would not, by definition, be time spent writing. I quite fancy getting literary in North Fife. There were some serious bolts of inspiration while I was up there last weekend, and I think this is the opportunity to see it through. It may just help me plough through some of the writer's block I've been experiencing of late.
Oh, and I'm very broke, and could do with avoiding the extra petrol expenditure.