It's day 1,489 of lockdown and 7 days since I sprained my ankle. I have been confined to the sofa with my foot up with a bag of iced peas. It's recovering, I'll be fine, but I'm a very impatient patient. I'm not the sort of person who can sit still. But I have to, for now. I went over twice on my ankle in the garden last Tuesday and a call to NHS 111 confirmed it wasn't a fracture. I have to sit and wait this out. And while I do, I write. And what a joy it is. I was already scheduled to begin writing novel 6 (as yet untitled) before lockdown began. It's another gritty saga set in a northeast mining village in 1919. I'd planned to do three weeks of research in museums and archives ... and then lockdown began. My research plans were scrapped, changed. I bought a pile of books from ebay and I did three weeks of research by reading instead. A friend of mine gave me his access to an historical research site, which has helped a great deal. Historia...