The Cornish Forest
Upton Cross, Cornwall

The cold, damp air presses against my face as I tread carefully in my old boots over the sodden, fallen leaves. I can hear the soothing sounds of the babbling brook nearby; I will reach it soon.
Suddenly, a fox darts across my path. In that fleeting moment, we both freeze—I am entranced by his graceful presence. He quickly loses interest and vanishes back into the thick scrub.
I reach the stony stream, where the rich colours capture my attention. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the crisp, cold winter air, and hold it for a moment. I can feel the warmth spreading within me as I walk at a brisk pace, for this winter truly bites.

This is a snapshot of my daily walk, a much-appreciated respite from the endless editing of my latest novel. I spent two weeks in an old, thatched cottage near The Minions, looking after four cats while their owner was away. The house was filled with intriguing books, all of which I was encouraged to read—and indeed, I did. An open fire crackled invitingly, adding comfort during the chilly days. It was January 2022.