A Room Without a View

It's reading week (Hooray!) and thus a week of writing has been voluntarily thrust upon me. No assignments, no classes and a lie in. Fabulous.
Although, sitting at my desk - yes, it's the desk today and not the bed - I found myself scowling at my window. While others will class Wales as a mountainous vast green delight, my view today, however, had appeared less interesting and inspiring than a stale piece of bread. The rain fell so pitifully it blew into a thick mist. Those green tress turned grey as the clouds hid the sun, and the wind constantly howled.
My inspiring mountains and sunset were no where to be found, just an empty depressing slop of rain. My heart bled to see the neighbours cat sitting on the windowsill during it all.
Some might call no view a joy, that there is nothing to really watch, and no people to spy on. I like my view. I have the sunset, and without it I felt a little less than complete.
Of course, Wales is notorious for being miserable, wet and cold, but today was especially unexceptional.
Despite the dull view of the valleys, words did appear on paper - well on screen. A new scene. A scene I have no home for in my novel at the current time. It always happens. Random bits of the book jump out at me quicker than others, then I end up piecing them together, like I am right now with Madeline's sequel.
I still haven't had those fireworks, but on the plus side the novels are coming along. One scene at a time. Then it's time to sew them up.