I'm sitting at my new desk writing this. I got fed up with having an office in a cupboard so have adapted my bedroom to incorporate an office too. As befits my new status as an author of course. Office is probably too grand a word considering the size of this place but it feels good to have a bit more space. I shall show you a photo or two. Hold on a minute while I try to figure out this camera once again.
It would be good if it were possible to continue writing whilst uploading photos don't you think. I expect now that someone is going to tell me that it is possible.
Anyway this is my bedroom/office. What do you think of it? I like it because I can lie in bed now and watch the birds feeding on the table outside. My bed incidentally is made from a couple of wooden pallets and a sheet of plyboard. It is only three feet wide, however I have cunningly made it so that it can open out to a larger size should the need arise. Pre planning as they say. Also when I am writing, during moments of reflection I can admire the view through the window instead of peering into a cupboard as I have been doing for the past couple of years. Sorry about the curtains. I haven't got around to sorting them out yet. That is fabric on the walls. The square pattern was a duvet cover and the other is a patchwork quilt cover. I have stuck it all on with PVA adhesive. No really don't laugh. Honestly I kid you not, it is much cosier than it looks. I anticipate that women will be flocking to see my new office, and once they notice the bed, there is no telling what might happen. Forethought that's what a man needs. Especially when he is getting to that stage of life when his good looks might depart at any moment. D'you see the book I'm reading? That's me that is, Mr Nice.
Sorry but I have to go now Match Of The Day has just started on TV. I didn't realise it was so late. I might be back later.
I'm back! Sorry about rushing off like that. Worth it though. My team won. Won! We thrashed that other lot four nil. Thrashed 'em! Shouldn't gloat really, it's not very nice for the losing team. Where is Mr Nice now? Ought to be magnanimous in victory. That's the sporting way. And in defeat too of course. That's what I have always told my football hero, my extremely handsome son George. Mind you it is quite difficult to keep one's emotions in check at football games. And let's be honest here, four nil. That's what you call a result.
I have realised that my lack of regular postings on this blog might be down to the fact that I have not been out and about much lately. I mean if I don't go anywhere and I don't meet anyone, then there is no material to get to grips with. I am going to have to do something about that because the brain needs stimulation if it is to keep going.
Actually please disregard that last paragraph. It is patently nonsense. Why would I think like that? Me! The bloke whose imagination very often takes me on some wonderful journeys. No need to even leave my chair or bed. Just let my vivid imagination do it's weird things.
Do you think the world would be a nicer place if there wasn't so much separation in it. I mean from the beginning, before land borders were formed. What if no borders had ever been formed? What if people could travel about wherever they wanted. There must have been a time. When did it change? No passports, no visa's. If you wanted to settle somewhere you could and if you didn't? Well that would be fine too. Different races wouldn't come into it because we would all just be human beings. Maybe religions wouldn't have formed either. I am just imagining it now. It is difficult, I realise that. Now that I think about it, even animals have their own territories, and have border disputes. Perhaps borders are simply a part of the human psyche. Oh well, it was just a thought.
Willard is staying with me for a few days. Willard is a dog. Sheepdog type. He used to come courting Sadie the German Shepherd. Many is the time I have sent him packing. But he is older now, wiser, and well, we were all young once. Why I remember like it were yesterday the time some bloke caught me on the doorstep with his daughter. If you think it isn't possible to clear a garden gate and run for your life with your trousers around your ankles, let me confirm that it most certainly is.
Willard is seventeen years old, that is a good age for a big ol' dog, and a bit blind and deaf. No trouble at all though. I think he likes it here. I think he likes me. I like him, he is a lovely old chap. Bonnie the Ginger Cat isn't so keen though. Willard, as far as I can make out wants to be Bonnie's friend, but she is having none of it. Mind you she is still coming indoors despite his presence. She has given him a couple of whacks and hissed a bit, but Willard isn't bothered. I think they could become friends given time. I think Bonnie will adapt quite quickly when I get a new puppy. Willard is sitting by my feet as I write this. It's a nice feeling.
I'm off now, EHS George is skyping tonight at nine. He wants to see what my new office/bedroom looks like. See you again soon I hope.