I’ve finished the third edit of my new book. Blah blah, editing stuff. Mumble, mumble, writing nonsense.
Okay. Got that out of my hair.
I’ve got a whole week off and don’t know what to do with myself. I’m currently typing on a keyboard liberated from my (alleged) daughter’s bedroom which means that I can’t do anything else until I drag my scraggy posterior down to the shops and buy another. Oh what shall I do?
Not that I’ve got much money to do anything after forking out £800 to have the eye of my daughter’s largest horse extracted. I offered to do it myself but curiously she rebuffed my kindness with a very rude word. There’s just no pleasing some people.
So, after much, or very little thought I’m going to do what I’ve been promising myself for weeks – no, not extracting the teeth from her pony who should, just about now be preparing to bite her Iphone 7, or whatever it is, in half again in preparation for my spawn’s demand for the next one, or even heaven forbid the Iphone X.
“oh, come on, she whined last week, “It’s only a thousand pounds.”
Of course we’ve all got a thousand quid to waste. Why just a few days ago I dumped my scooter in favour of a Lamborghini because I was bored.
Getting away from the point. I’m going to bed. And I’m going to remain there for the next three days until my beloved turfs me out. Just like she did last Saturday afternoon, barely bothering to hide the hammer in her twitching right hand.
This is what I’d rather be doing – forever.