Friday, September 14, 2012

When did it start to go wrong?

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Do you ever wonder that, Anna? 

I don't mean you and me... that could never go wrong!

I mean One's life. Your life. My life.

Sometimes you can put your finger on a particular time, or event and say: That was a turning point. A watershed. A significant change.

I can think of a few, but the one that comes to mind tonight is when Georgina and I sold our first house. It was me that wanted to move so I take responsibility. Of course I had my reasons but they were many, and too complex to go into now.

But I can remember one evening - the sale had been agreed but we hadn't moved - I had taken my daughter to bed, read to her as usual, and she was asleep. I stood at her bedroom window and looked out over the fields (they hadn't built the houses yet and you could see across to the airfield) and I somehow knew that things would never be the same again. Everything was changing.  I had put the train in motion and I couldn't stop it.

Looking back I could have stopped the train - or at least slowed it down. Of course you can't stop children from growing up and I wouldn't want to, but there was no real reason to move at that time - and I knew it. But I felt I had made a decision and should stick to it.

One thing I have learned is that decisions can be reversed. Or, as a friend of mine liked to say: Everything is fixable. Well, maybe it is - if you act quickly enough.

Funny (but perhaps not) this is just about the time of year that I stood in that bedroom, centuries ago, and just let things happen. And the irony is that I thought I was making things happen.

In the words of the song Blackberry Way: What am I supposed to do now?

Sorry to hear about Dave. This teaching game is a bit of a minefield nowadays. Still, I am sure he is glad you are there to support him.



I saw an advert on the back of a bus. It showed the picture of a handsome, fit young man - someone called Mark Foster - and it said he was 7 times world champion. The bus drove away before I could find out what Mr Foster was 7 times champion at. (should that be 'of'?)  or what the advert was selling. 

And I thought: I would like to be world champion just once. Of anything.

Now obviously one cannot be a world champion at writing novels but one could at least achieve fame. And that would do me.

So I have started to write my blockbuster. It starts with a woman on a train. (already I have two sure-fire elements for a best-seller: sex and travel.) I don't want to give any more away at this stage but would love to read chapter one to you, Anna, snug in bed.
(even in a Travel-Lodge).

See you soon

George


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