I, Writer … # 16

I, Writer … # 16

Much of a Dayness (Part 1) … a.m.

I have been living in Full-Timeness for a little over a year now.
It’s hard to describe a typical day but with images taken here I will try.

At some point in the early morning I rise. This generally consists of a somewhat unwilling transition from horizontal to vertical. I open the blind and look out through the window just to make sure I’ve not been spirited away to the Village during the night.

I blink my eyes a few times. Everything looks normal. That’s definitely the garden out there. Good. I knew it wouldn’t let me down. Now I won’t have to answer any stupid questions about why I resigned. Not that I did. The security services are a bit neurotic about things like that. No. I went easy like a good man should.

Breakfast consists of a mug of tea, some sort of fruit and a Weetabix. Look, I am not going to show you a picture of a sodding Weetabix. Use your bloody imagination.

Also, at this time of day, there are people I am contractually obliged to communicate with. I therefore give my beautiful wife a good morning kiss. That is very easy as she is the love of my life.

There are plenty of important things I must do during the day. Rephrase. There are plenty of things I could be doing. Ought to be doing even. And if I could work out exactly what they were, together with the order I should be doing them in, then I probably wouldn’t be doing them in any case. It’s a pointless exercise. If the roof caves in then I will look at the sky. And if the sky caves in then I’ll just go back to bed.

But I must write. That is paramount. I work on a table in a cosy room next to the kitchen. I have a butterfly mind and find it very difficult to concentrate. But once I get going the time goes like a dream. At the moment I’m working on several things: some articles about our somewhat lengthy sojourn on the wonderful island of Corfu, a detective book and a poem about Scottish Independence. Maybe I should write a novel about a Scottish detective who goes for a holiday on Corfu … (???)

It is 1 pm. Where has the morning gone ?

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8 responses to “I, Writer … # 16

  1. Don’t forget your Scottish detective wears a new white Panama hat!

  2. Oh yes. 1pm where has the morning gone?

  3. Playing with Imaginary Friends is bliss. Having to write down their dongs is quite another thing.

  4. Pingback: I, Writer … #17 | Routine Matters

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