Was truly a stroke of genius - not

seemed more inviting, with its empty ivory smoothness, its tactility, its silence. Out grocery shopping, I noticed the local $2 shop was still open. Weeks had passed since I’d shopped anywhere except Coles and the bright cap guns, synthetic frangipani and bottled bubble mixture had a curious new allure which I resisted, opting instead for a handsome paintbrush and watercolour pad. I headed to the checkout with a sense of excitement.

“You’re still open,” I said, conversationally. “Yes.” She looked offended. “Stage 3. Woolworths is open. So I can be open.”

“Of course!” I nodded my head in friendly agreement, because it could be a while till my next face-to-face chat with a stranger.

At home I watched a YouTube video on painting horses and I’m set. And then? Yep, my unicorns looked like smiling llamas again. The fourth one looked bizarrely like a gun.

When my daughter came in, I pointed out the gun horse head and she said, after long pause: “Yeah, that’s no good. It kind of looks like it’s been – bitten,” adding kindly, “Mum, now you’ve written a novel for grown-ups you should maybe, you know, stick to that?”

She’s right. It’ll take ages to get good at unicorns but I am totally loving making marks, the sweep of paint on the paper’s whiteness.

Before packing up, I dashed off a sketch of myself painting unicorns. I’d love to say that in this final picture there appeared a perfect forelock, poll and muzzle but sadly I can’t. Reader, he looked like a giraffe.

Leah Swann is an award-winning author. Her novel published by HarperCollins, is out now.