My book launch party turned out to be a super-spreader. The outbreak was admirably democratic - it included me in the head count. The symptom checker wasn’t much help either. I kept my appetite, retained my senses of taste and smell, suffered no aching joints, and didn’t even have a temperature. Just one day off with what I misinterpreted as a truly massive head cold, and then four days of mild, flu-like recovery. On balance I’m relieved to have it over and done with; my attack was clearly tamed by all the vaccinations I’ve had and the development of milder variants. Let’s blame it on the Jubilee celebrations which must surely qualify as the super spreader of all super spreaders.
Yesterday I tested my recovery by going on a 14-mile walk, proof that the Covid bout left no obvious ill effects. The photo of the village store and post office at Firle, where I had lunch, captures this village’s charm.
Since the launch I’ve been heartened by a smattering of generous Amazon reviews and kind emails from ‘my readers’, although some of the feedback feels rather guarded. Time to wean myself off an unhealthy need for unremitting praise and nothing less than five stars. I’ve also decided to give myself a summer break from writing; the next novel (a work in progress)will have a rest from my attention for the next couple of months. Right now I want to relax, apart from watering the garden and plugging away at the marketing.
Job done, but game definitely not over.
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