What is this thing called time?

If you ever met me (ask Mark and Nikki you others), you'd know that I never wear a watch, haven't done for years... nor I might add do I wear a suit. I used to, all day and every day, but I took it into the back garden one afternoon, poured paraffin on it and tossed it onto a bonfire. Man it looked good to see it go up in flames, and I've never worn one since.

That suit and it's predecessors had ruled my life for close on thirty years, and when the bank made it clear that I no longer had a role to play in their plans for total world domination, I just had to let it go. The suit that is...

The watch came later,and was a very different story. I got totally blathered one night and tried to fly down the stairs in a Leeds nightclub shortly before Xmas. I'm still certain that drink was spiked, and probably intended for one of the girls in the party I was with. But that was maybe 10/12 years ago now, and like I say, I don't have much truck with time these days. It was some 48 sleepless hours later before I learnt that I'd dislocated my shoulder. Damn it hurt.

Ever since then I've had this persistent tingling sensation in my left hand; damaged some nerve the docs told me later. Wearing a watch was uncomfortable and rather lost its appeal after that. Besides, when you get to my age, who wants to be reminded that their life is passing so quickly? Certainly not me... Besides, when the writing flows from your fingers like honey, time actually becomes a hindrance. You have to take your chances when they arise.

Ah well, two weeks today and my life as a writer will REALLY begin...

Chris