A couple of years ago the time came to hop off the rat-race roundabout, one of my better decisions.
It didn’t take long to settle into a routine of rising bright and early every morning, perusiong the obituaries over a couple of cups of coffee and, failing to find myself listed, going back to bed for a late morning nap.
Granted, not a terribly productive routine, nevertheless quite enjoyable. Eventually, however, it seemed reasonable to scratch a long standing itch and start writing a book. That’s was about two, maybe two and a half, years ago and has resulted in the creation of a 65.000 word convoluted mess.
Now it is time to put that mess into some sort of order. What sits here is a journal, of sorts, of that process.