I’m a passenger and loving it, most of the time, especially now that I’m addicted to audio books. On the way to work on a Monday morning and the return journey I am watching the sky, the light, hoping for a good opportunity to whip out the trusty phone and snap away… and all the while in my ear Stephen King’s work separates one side of my mind from the other. Black House, Misery and Rose Madder have accompanied me on these journeys for the last few weeks. Before that it was The Lord of the Rings and a bit of Pratchet. Isn’t life grand when you can multi-task, while doing nothing?

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All these words send my eyes spinning over rooftops, glancing off rivers, looking for great reflections. Down the line, there and back again, past Dumbarton, Bowling and Old Kilpatrick under the Erskine Bridge. I am lost on these journeys, really alone and ultimately delirious to have that time to use as I wish. Oh what is that Shakespeare quote… perchance to dream? It seems I spend a lot of time doing just that but not writing it down, but I’m not going to beat my brains in for that – I’m enjoying it all too much.

I can feel it pulling me closer. The tidying of work is just the blade being sharpened getting me ready for the plunge into battle. Yesterday I demolished the mess that was the poetry and re-grouped it into something with a Perspex roof so I can see what the hell is going on – I’ll repeat that exercise with the fiction, today. Just call me General.


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