Regency Romance Novels – blog

This evening I finished editing chapters 44 and 45! I would have been done editing, but the Goblin (who had eleven days off his day job over Christmas) decided he needed a complete break. So I’ve been waiting for him to edit so I could do my final edit. It was probably a good thing. I had a forced holiday which I enjoyed. I got lots of books for Christmas and managed to read several when I wasn’t watching two series of Burn Notice (a Christmas present to self). My favorite read was the Journals of Dorothy Wordsworth. She was the sister of William Wordsworth the poet. The journals cover 1798 and then 1800 to 1803. I was a bit sceptical (I’m not actually a fan of Wordsworth’s poetry – it’s a bit too flowery and impersonal for my taste), but I was gutted when I got to the end and had to accept there would be no more. She wrote her diary to be read by her brother as well as other friends, so you rarely get inside her head. It’s more like you’re standing at her shoulder. It’s a fantastic glimpse into an average person’s Regency England! At this time they could only afford one servant so Dorothy did a lot of work. I have to admit when I finished I disliked William Wordsworth even more than before I started, but she adored her brother. I think she was half in love with him. My copy is now heavily underlined and covered with scribbled notes. I had no idea England had glow-worms! The journals are full of fascinating incidentals and vignettes of life happening in her day. If you love peering into other people’s lives this is a magical window! The house the siblings lived in when she was writing these journals, Dove Cottage in the Lake District, is actually open to the public. Apparently it’s very much as it was when the Wordsworth’s lived there. I’ve added it to my Must Visit list.

I’m back on a mega-healthy diet and exercising almost every day. Today would have been less painful if I hadn’t fallen over in the church yard yesterday (it’s an old cemetery) trying to take pictures of a spiderweb covered with water droplets. Imagine a fattish woman bundled in red, crouched in front of the gate and then suddenly she keels over backwards still clutching her camera. I managed to smash against the metal fence and bruise my right arm, but at least I didn’t crack my head.