Remember when you were small and you were lying awake waiting for Santa to deliver that bike, or the doll’s house, or the boxed set of Enid Blytons? You just knew the next day was going to be absolutely fabulous.

Well, that’s how I’m feeling right now ahead of my trip to (deep breath) Annaghmakerrig next week.

As someone who is always bemoaning the fact that I’ve no room of my own, no regular writing time, 101 (valid) excuses why I can’t finish my work, well I’ve been called out with the chance of a whole week’s writing retreat. Seven days and nights to do nothing but…write.

So many people have told me how wonderful the Tyrone Guthrie Centre at Annaghmakerrig in Monaghan is, and how conducive to serious, head-down-and-get-on-with-it writing. My place was hard won, too – I had to jump through lots of hoops to get there, and I’m self-funded.

But long story short, my time is coming and I can’t wait. Will it be worth it? Who knows?

No interruptions. Check. Beautiful surroundings. Check. Exclusive writing time. Check.

No-one asking where are the car keys? Would I like a cup of tea? Come and see this funny You Tube video. What’s for dinner? Isn’t it your turn to clean up the cat sick?

A whole week of me minding myself (I’m self-catering) and no-one else.  I can please myself what I eat and when I eat it, when I go to bed and when I get up again, what music to listen to, how to fill my time. Bliss (although the prospect of such aloneness long term doesn’t appeal).

I’m allowing myself to take just three books – I’m supposed to be writing, not reading, after all. Tom Hanks’s book of short stories was a Christmas present that I still haven’t opened; Orwell’s 1984 is a Book Club choice which I’ve recently re-visited, and need to finish. And Mary Norton’s Borrowers books are my go-to if I need cheering up, or if I’m lonely – an escape back to childhood.

I’ve chosen two of my own projects to focus on, both long standing half-finished books that I hope are going to be worth me putting some effort into. One is a children’s story that I first started 20 years ago, which I keep picking up and putting down again.  I’ve decided to give it one last try because I really like the premise and think it will work, given a concentrated push.

Then there’s another novel that I really should get back into. I’m 67,000 words in, and I need to decide if it is worth finishing. And of course, I might even wax lyrical with a poem or two.  I might even get the hang of Scrivener while I’m at it.

The danger, of course, is having too many things on the go at once and becoming distracted. The gardens and countryside around Annaghmakerrig are gorgeous by all accounts, so I’m taking my camera. And my walking boots.

But I’m going to be sure to take my writing head. Wish me luck!