There. Act 1 is written. Well, for the moment, anyway. I redrafted the last couple of thousand words at the weekend, during a chilled Sunday morning writing session. It needed a significant rewrite, as I've changed the direction of the plot. Consequently, I may need to amend some earlier scenes - but I'll deal with that once we've got through to the end. This week will require lots of work; act II is a mess.

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Autumn dropped in last week, giving us some delightful cool nights. We even turned the fan off for a bit. There was talk of duvets. However - in a meteorological reverse, summer has decided it's time for a last blast, and we're back to the "sweltering to unbearable" range. Truly a first world problem, and I'm not whining, honest, I'm not.

The cost of living in Cyprus is lower than the UK - except for one specific utility. Electricity is expensive here. This year, it will be 48% more per kilowatt hour than it was in 2020. Given that the air-con has been working overtime, I'm expecting an eye-watering bill.

There must be something in the air this week. On the jobby-job front, everybody I've spoken to today has been a total (insert expletive of your choice here). Prickly, unpleasant and unreasonable. Inevitably, I spent most of the morning dreaming up ways to torture these people, thereby punishing myself, falling behind my task list. I'm through it now, bar the occasional murderous thought and dark muttering. I have become used to picking my own clients and partners, and biting my tongue doesn't come easy to me when I'm working for someone else.

Yesterday, I found myself researching co-working spaces in Limassol, the city to which I'm nearest. I have absolutely no need for a co-working space. I have a lovely office here in the house, where my dogs keep me company, happy to profit from the cooled air. Once we've seen Mrs L off to her job, I take them out for a stroll, get the various domestic machines to do their thing and descend to the office to work, read, write, anything I want really. I work through until it's time to prepare the main meal that we have when Mrs L returns.

Adding in two thirty minute commutes would serve no purpose at all, in fact it would add a stress that I dispensed with years ago, and give me even less time to do the things that I enjoy. Still, there's something beguiling about being the digital nomad - swanning in to an uber-cool co-working space, MacBook in my back pack, ridiculous pint of ice-coffee-with-cream in hand. One of them has day tickets - so maybe I should just get it out of my system. Would make for some very hipster instagram shots at the very least.

Right, I'm off to prepare for some client meetings. Any more nastiness and I'd say there's a strong chance unparliamentary language may ensue.