It’s said that getting an agent is as unlikely as winning the National Lottery. However, as someone wins the lottery most weeks, I persevere. Perhaps I need a pithier pitch. Perhaps the first novel is not the novel.   Six and a half thousand words into the second. Roughly ten times that to go. Suddenly the attractions of flash fiction are as tempting as chocolate in Lent.  

Kitchen items are unsafe during an art attack. Two chopping boards have succumbed to artistic endeavour. A spatula is scarred with acrylic paint. And the seagrass mat suffered from surgery in one corner.