I'm on deadline and I wish I could say that my life is looking like this at the moment - all cashmere cardigans and endless cups of tea and writing cross-legged on the kitchen bench - but really I'm a mess on my couch in sweatshirt and 20-year old Bath tee shirt watching The Voice finale (which probably isn't at all helpful for the quality of my prose, hmpphhh) and desperately trying to NOT tweet a million times how much I love Keith Urban (sorry. I caved. once). Maybe when I live in New York in an airy, light-filled Soho loft writing will look properly glamorous. But until then I'm happy with hair bunched up on my head and holes in my tee shirt and another glass of ice-cold milk.