Writing...

A few people have said that I should write a book about my travels. However, unless I put my imagination into overdrive, it would make dull reading. Today I breakfasted, as so often when I’m in the northern counties, at the café in Booths supermarket (I have a Booths card, so the tea is free). Then I parked up and wrote maybe 1,500 words. I staggered out of the van, feeling a bit light-headed and disorientated. That’s a good sign; it means I’d had a productive session, engrossed in the writing.

Then the satnav lady directed me to the swimming pool in Garstang, to get a shower (she seems to know when I need one. I didn’t ask her). The lady at the reception desk squinted at her computer and said “that’ll be £5”. She heard my anguished cry - “I’ve bought cars for less than that!” - and had another look at the computer screen. Even though we both knew that my youthful good looks were deceptive, she put me down for a junior swim. £2.50. Like I say, I don’t think there’s a book in this…