Woke up this morning itching to write, to move my story on. So, instead of nosing round the shops while youngson is in his drama class, I hurry back home and get 2000 words out in less than two hours.

I think it’s reading Ian McKewan’s Solar that is doing it. That man is such a wonderful writer – his simple use of language, and his binding up of the domestic and personal with the bigger picture are unparalleled. Great storyteller, too. He’s the one writer that I can’t hold out for paperback for. But there’s a paradox in there: his writing is so good, it makes me want to put him down and get on with my own.