Turenne

Stopped to snap the hilltop village of Turenne on the way home from the airport this evening. It always feels like I'm back when I see Turenne outlining itself against the sky. And it is good to be home, at last, after a year of what has felt like endless travelling. I counted up my flights for 2014 this weekend, and today's return flight from London was my 35th of the year. And, I am pleased to say, my last (barring the unforeseen). A month at home now, with only two more events, before heading off to Spain for the winter at the end of November - and the start of work on the next book.

I left the award dagger from last night with my editor at Quercus, because I didn't want to risk it being confiscated at airport security on the way home. They will send it on to me by courier, and I will endeavor to capture it for a blip.