M4 Service Station, near Bristol
As I embark on writing the book of my Atlantic adventure, a few sobering thoughts from the great and good of literature:
The profession of book writing makes horse racing seem like a solid and stable business.
It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous.
Critics are to authors what dogs are to lamp-posts.
And that is my cop-out of a blog for today. I am saving myself for the book. (Or to tell the truth, after a few weeks of haring around giving my energy to people and places, I have suddenly slumped today into a jelly-like blob and can barely string together a… one of those long wordy thingummies….)