I take a pre-prandial stroll every evering. In the vain hope it may delay my death by a day or two. But it's also good for thinking.
Just me, the pavement and the clip clop of my footsteps. Obviously cars, trams, buses, scooters, bicycles and people, too. Those I can shut out. And let my thoughts run free.
On Friday's walk, I realised which book I wanted to write this year. A "proper" book. One written as a whole rather than crudely selotaped together blog posts.
I intend writing at least one "proper" book a year. Not just any old crap, but the books I really want to write. I like to think of myself as a realist. Well aware of how much time I have left. No point in putting shit off since I passed sixty. Now might be my last chance. I intend using my remaining time well..
Home from my walk, I laid down the keel of the book. Today I welded on a shitload of the hull. I plan launching before the end of March.
What's it about? I'll tell you that later. When it's more fully-formed. And able to float unaided.