Right then, back down to earth with a bump. I really must be getting on with editing the novel I’m working on. Actually, I’ve found a renewed excitement in this novel – something was niggling at me; something wasn’t quite right about it, but now I’ve realised what it is and I’m ready to blast through it and I just know it’s gonna be a good’un.
There is something weighing on me, though, like a terrible burden. I am a troubled man. You see, some friends of mine bid at a charity auction for a BMWZ4 for the weekend – and they gave it to me for my 40th birthday. Wel, I cashed it in this weeked and the car that now sits outside has to be returned today. It’s not just any old Z4 – it’s a curvy M Sport z4 with the muscular body pack, lower suspension, agressive bumpers front and back and . . . well, it’s not mine is it? It’s going to be hard to hand those keys back.
Anyway, it was great to have it for the weekend. We had some sun, so the lid came off and the children had a ride and decided it’s ‘the coolest car in the whole world, Daddy’. We had a good drive in it, my wife and I muddled it all in with an anniversary weekend with some friends, spending a night at the fantastic Rockliffe Hall – and I did the school run this morning so the childrens’ friends could see them in the cool car. And when I dropped my son off, we followed Alan Shearer’s car down the road.
And now . . . well, it’s back to the garret with the pinhole windows. Coffee, tea, the computer, me and my imagination. I’m loving my renewed vigour for this book and I know it’s all going to work well now that I’ve identified what didn’t feel right. I’m excited about all that, of course but, well . . . do I really have to give the car back?