As he stands in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth and lamenting the loss of the youthful elasticity in his skin, he makes eye contact with his reflection, groans, and then quickly looks away. I stand behind him, “You're getting on a bit old man, who's going to fancy that now eh?” I can tell he agrees but doesn't reply, he rarely does. When he does it's usually a jovial “piss off, or shut it!”. It's banter, at least I think it is. 

This week (end of September 2024) marks one year since I self-published the book and as time has gone by, the urge to throw down some more words has increased. It helps to declutter the brain in a way that is unsurpassed by anything else I have tried before.

Being in a situation where an emotive response is the correct response comes with a heavy amount of pressure for me, imagine standing in front of an unexploded ticking bomb with a pair of wire cutters, and the only training you ever did was for a cycling proficiency certificate in 1981.