There is a long running Radio 4 comedy ‘After Henry’. Henry has died…. and the rest follows.

There is an extraordinary emptiness just now. My work on Bute is ended. He is away searching for a publisher, and in the current climate, dear knows if his posthumous search will succeed.

His going was not to much noticed at first. I had Christmas, and all the work and excitement of that. Then the ‘Reader’ to compile for the course for which I am responsible. And then the house in turmoil to do something to.

So now it is a little like the days after the funeral. An extraordinary blankness. I am trying to take a little rest, so that I can start on the work of restoring this house feeling energetic and confident. Or something. But what I actually feel is a great sense of loss. I think, the loss of hope over it all as much as anything. Work in progress might after all – well, might do or be anything. Like Saturday at coffee time. Work finished, unless it has a publisher or some other joyful end, is rather like the end of a long, hard, unsuccessful week day.


3 responses to “After…

  1. Oh Rosemary, I do sympathise! I have not (yet) written a book, but I have similar reaction to finishing shorter projects. Brief euphoria, then blankness, accompanied with the sense that all is stale, flat and unprofitable. I hope the low spell doesn’t last too long, but I can only imagine it is inevitable. And perhaps important too.

  2. rosemaryhannah

    And it is February, a rather dreary one too. And I am being self pitying when, really, I have no need to be.

  3. Surely if ever there was a decent excuse for self pity, it’s February?

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