A Letter from The Glen — Summer, Slow Books and a New Story

A very warm welcome if you are new to The Glen, and hello again, dear friend, if you have been wandering here for some time.

Come and sit with me. Pull up a chair beside the fire. The tea is warm, and I have been looking forward to chatting with you.

It has been far too long.

Snail has told me that he feels a little hurt because I keep blaming him for the slow arrival of the newsletters. The truth is that I have been writing a new book, and that, as Owl says, can take up all the time in the world, particularly when one keeps stopping to look out of the window, make tea and wonder whether a sentence might prefer to sit somewhere else.

My other excuse is summer.

Summer is slow. I am blaming Sunny for that. He stretches himself across the sky, warms every stone and berry, and seems to whisper, "There is plenty of time." Then everyone lies down in the grass for five minutes and wakes to discover that most of August has wandered past.

The New Book

The new book is called The Great Book of All Things Questions and Bedtime.

It is, appropriately, a very slow and sleepy book. I keep nodding off at my desk while writing it. Snail says I ought to eat more cabbage because it is full of goodness for the brain. Mouse has taken a different approach and simply keeps bringing me tea. Between the cabbage and the teapot, I am extremely well cared for.

The book follows one quiet summer evening with Little Rabbit and his family. As bedtime draws near, he begins asking the sort of questions that seem small at first, but somehow contain the whole world within them. Questions about home, time, love and why everything feels steadier when the people who love us are close.

That is all I shall tell you for now.

The Editors

I have three editors on the job.

The first is an editor we call Squirrel Nutkin, after the famous one, and because she is always collecting things and hiding them in safe places. There are no squirrels on the Isle of Man, and she is, in fact, a mouse with the nickname Squirrel Nutkin. She is wonderfully knowledgeable, has firm opinions about everything, including commas, and works from what we fondly call the Peanut Gallery.

The Peanut Gallery is not a gallery of peanuts at all, but a beautiful conservatory filled with clivias of every shape and size. She has collected them over many years, and their great green leaves and bright flowers surround her desk while she reads. There are tall ones, small ones, rare ones and several whose names Owl insists must be written in Latin. It is from this leafy little kingdom that she reads every sentence carefully, notices the things the rest of us miss and is never afraid to tell me when a word has wandered into the wrong place.

Owl, of course, is also casting his eyes over the pages. He became rather concerned when he reached the part in which the Moon is both a celestial lady and also mountainous. He says he understands moons, ladies and mountains separately, but has been unable to locate the correct volume explaining how all three might belong together. I think you will understand perfectly.

The third editor lives at Pebble Beach with Squirrel Nutkin. He is considerably more laid-back and prefers to read each chapter aloud, slowly, to discover whether it stirs his heart. If it does, he nods. If it does not, he walks beside the sea for a while, listens to the waves and tries again later.

Between the three of them, Owl's reference books, Mouse's tea and Snail's medicinal cabbage, I feel the book is in very capable hands.

It is such a peaceful story that nobody in The Glen has yet managed to remain awake until the final page. Owl fell asleep with his beak resting upon the manuscript, and I have begun to wonder whether every copy ought to come with a small pillow, purely for Glenfolk safety.

And What About You, Dear Friend?

What quiet thoughts visit you when the day is ending and the world has finally grown still?

Please do write back and tell me. I would love to hear how you are, where you are reading from and what has been happening along your own path.

Thank you for reading, for visiting The Glen and, most of all, for being here. Whether this is your first visit or one of many, there is always a chair waiting for you, and Mouse will keep the tea warm.

Every kind word, every review, every little story and every friendly visit helps to keep the lanterns glowing.

More news will follow soon, provided Snail forgives me, Sunny stops encouraging afternoon naps, the editors approve the next chapter, and I manage to remain out of the garden and at my desk long enough to finish it.

If you would like letters from The Glen to arrive directly in your inbox, you are most warmly invited to sign up for the newsletter. Mouse will make sure the tea is ready.

With all my gratitude,
Victoria