It's no good I've got writers cramp. Don't know quite what to do about it. I have tried slapping myself around the face in the hope that something will loosen in my brain and allow me to carry on writing. So far it hasn't worked. Seems that my brain already has too many loose bits rattling around in there. Oops' hang on. Did I say writers cramp? Sorry. I meant writers block!
The problem is that it has been a quiet kind of a day. Uneventful. Nothing to hang my hat on. I did get invited to dinner this evening by an old flame, but nothing happened there unfortunately. The meal was delicious though. Roast chicken with all the trimmings, followed by rhubarb and plum crumble with custard. But you don't want to hear about that,do you? No, I thought not.
I think what you are supposed to do in these circumstances is just to carry on writing any old nonsense. But that's not going to work, I write a lot of nonsense as it is. What I'm going to do is have another look in my notebook. See if I can find some inspiration there.
No, nothing there just random notes. Nothing happening in there to give my limited amount of grey matter a bit of a kickstart. Hold on a minute! I think we're off!
When I was a youngster I was the proud owner of a Triumph Tiger Cub motorbike. It was completely unreliable and often used to let me down just when I needed it most. In fact, it could be described as reliably unreliable. This little motorbike was at it's most unreliable, at those times, when I had somehow persuaded one of the young ladies of the village, we called them young ladies in those days. They had to behave like ladies. The pill hadn't been invented yet! To join me for a romantic trip into the surrounding countryside. "I'll be there" I would promise in a foolhardy manner, adding hopefully. "Don't forget to bring a blanket".
Of course, knowing what a pig it was to get started I would allow myself plenty of time to accomplish this. Now this is the bit where I begin to tell you about the Tiger Cubs kickstart pedal. The bit which has been inspired by me using the word kickstart towards the end of the third paragraph. Clever eh!
The kickstart pedal frightened me! It frightened me because I knew that it could kick back violently. It was devious too and would often lull me into a false sense of security by starting on the first attempt. As soon as I heard it fire up I would turn the twistgrip frantically, revving the engine madly, desperately hoping that it would warm up and keeping running. My hopes building, rev rev, building rev rev dwindling rev gone. Phut!
Another half hour or so of fruitless painful attempts at kickstarting her -it had to be a her - and I would give up in despair. No romantic trip, no young lady, no blanket on the ground. Just two very painful ankles and bruised shins. Both ankles and both shins because I didn't give in easily. When one leg was knackered I would switch to the other one.
But I tell you what. I loved that little motor bike. I loved how she looked and I loved how she smelled, and when she did go, I loved how she went. No need for crash helmets in those days. You could feel the wind on your face and in your hair. The miles I rode her were worth all the miles I had to push her home. They were great days.
Just to finish on this bit. If you ever get the chance to ride a Tiger Cub just remember, if it doesn't start, It will be either; you haven't turned the ignition key, or you have forgotten to turn the petrol on! That's a bit of advice that was hard learnt and hard earn't.
The young lady? She went off with my mate Spud. He had a Norton Commando!