I was never meant to have a baby, but I have just gone through the most difficult period of gestation that anybody could ever dread to have.
Finally, I completed the delivery of the thing during the early part of the afternoon. Pain, there was aplenty and there were times when I wondered at the lunacy of it all. At my age, I ask you?
It all started on April 19th 2020 at around lunchtime. Winter had long since gone and spring was just starting to establish itself. The world was beginning to panic about a huge pandemic. Europe was in lockdown as the greatest threat since WW2 threatened to halt mankind’s complacency.
In the midst of all of this, I decided to go for a bicycle ride.
It was a bright, sunny morning that led me out onto the country roads that surrounded our home. Walkers, horse-riders and cyclists were pushing into the newly-found safety of empty carriageways – cars had pleasingly vanished. It was the ideal time for the push-bike. And when I set off on that Sunday morning, I did not realise that something was waiting for me, something that was preparing to swallow me hole, and never let go.
Just less than an hour ago, I was able to re-emerge from that creative digestive system of an author eating Fly-Trap that left me in a puddle of ambiotic fluids that have threatened to drown me ever since I started to write.
I have now to dy up the mess, clean its face, and present it to the world.
Please wish me luck…