I’ve long been aware that my nine year thinks I’m ancient, but today his attempt to be more specific was, ‘You were born in the old days, weren’t you, mum, between dinosaurs and World War Two?’ My first school photograph, aged five, and a quick look-up of my 1970s village primary school went some way in convincing him I didn’t carry a gas mask and live in a cave. It came about at bedtime when I was reading aloud our nightly extract from The Borrowers – carried over from school; his teacher reads daily to the class – and mentioned I’d read the book at his age, but found it quite tricky to read out loud (complex sentence structures, mostly) and he agreed that Miss Ford read it better (Miss Ford does everything better, and she’s got two horses; she’s genuinely amazing). ‘Did your teacher read it to you?’ he asked....

Yep ... as well as lurching from day to day without actually knowing what day it is, I’ve spent the last six weeks brushing up on my French.

If everyone has a book in them, but all most of us need is time to write it, then maybe self-isolation and hanging out at home has a sliver-lining, after all.

From young adult fantasy to historical non-fiction; from novels to novelettes, editing work is never the same. Here, I’m celebrating the talent and tenacity of several authors whose stories have very recently become ‘real’ books.

I’ve just said goodbye to my little brother, David. It still feels surreal – I expect it always will because I just assumed he would always be there.