First, business. Dr Dan, Dr Dad is looking good and ready for publication. The Kindle edition is already available for pre-order on Amazon and the paperback will be on sale by the end of the month. Will there be a fifth book? Probably. I’d quite like to see how Dr Dan fares during the pandemic, but I may take a breather and write something else in the meanwhile. To be decided.
You might think that my move, back to the old country, with a modest amount of worldly goods, would be a simple matter. Into the van and off we go. Wrong. A move between a EU country and the UK is now the occasion for bureaucrats to create a paper-chase, with pages and pages of forms to fill and evidence to produce. As a consequence I’m going to be living out of a suitcase for a few weeks while my stuff sits in storage awaiting the magic word from HM Customs and the Inland Revenue. Ah well.
My consolation is that it will all be worth it because I’m about to take up residence in one of the most enviable cribs in London: the Charterhouse. If you don’t know it, check it out here. Someone asked me, rather impertinently I thought, how I’d managed to swing such good fortune. My reply was that I ticked all the boxes for admission to the almshouse: elderly, single and destitute. Note well, anyone planning to give up the day job and become a full-time writer. Don’t do it. Become a plumber. Get an HGV licence. Write your novel at the weekend.
I won’t be blogging while I’m in transit, so this is it until later in October. I leave the final word to Jessie Wallace channeling that old music hall star, Marie Lloyd. Enjoy.