May 9th 2009

Thanks for coming back.

I say, on Monday last, I was working away on my laptop as usual, when it started making a strange ticking noise, then an information box came up on the screen that I didn’t understand. I never understand what it says in those boxes anyway. They’re written by chimpanzees crossed with computer geeks who live in boxes like battery hens underground in California. They are thrown bananas and sugar-coated pep pills every six hours. Anyway, among other things, it said that I had done something illegal. Well, I haven’t done anything illegal for years!
Anyway, I quickly stuck a memory stick into the thing and fortunately saved all my work.
I couldn’t close the laptop down in the conventional way. The machine wouldn’t have it. It kept throwing up more information boxes full of threats, insults and telling me that I needed permission to do certain things.
These days I do pretty well what I want ... I don’t reckon I need anybody’s permission ... except maybe the queen’s.
Anyway, I switched off the electric at the plug, pulled out the cable, pulled the wire out of the transformer socket and the one out of the machine, but it still kept on throwing out orders, information and telling me I was doing everything wrong. That’s nothing new. I’ve known that for years. The little lights on the outside of the case kept blinking furiously showing me that things were desperate.
I knew there was a battery in it somewhere, so I turned it upside down. It didn’t like that – and sent out a groan. I quickly found the compartment where the battery was hidden and after a struggle with two catches that you have to operate simultaneously, managed to take it out. The laptop made a small hopeless resurgence for a second or two, then its lights went out, the screen went to black and it finally expired on the table in front of me.

That was that. It was caput. And so I was out of work. I needed a laptop, and I needed it straightaway. I dashed into town and had a quick look round, saw over fifty different models and came home with a beauty. New design. Fully guaranteed. Ideal for a writer. Every feature you can think of. Programmed ready. Just plug it in. As the man said, all I had to do was press the keys. It was so up to date, it would practically write the stuff for me! Magic.

I got it unpacked and followed the simple diagram enclosed to set it up. Then switched it on. Big screen. Lots of colour. Great sounds. It was like Wonderland. But to my horror I discovered that everything had changed. And I mean everything. I had been using a computer every day for about twelve years and suddenly I was lost. I couldn’t find anything that I understood. All the sequences had been changed and all the names of the moves had been changed, the jargon had changed. Only the mouse was the same. I am plodding through and with help from James who looks after the website I am disciplining the great monster and trying to get back to writing my book.

To something else ...
I had a super surprise in the post this morning. A voucher copy of MURDER IN BARE FEET in audio. It’s chiefly for the blind or registered blind, of course. It was recorded by the actor, Jonathan Keeble, who has recorded many other writers books ... he does Reginald Hill’s DALZIEL AND PASCO and others, so I am in good company.
I listened to a bit of it and it sounded just great. I understand it is out in the libraries and shops now.

You’re going to get more Angel in future. The publisher is changing the format of the Angel books to make them 30% bigger. I will therefore be writing the stories appropriately longer, which will be much better. I will have more space in which to develop the plot. And, for the same money, you will get more Angel. As I write this, I have just realised, everybody wins, except me. I won’t be getting any more money!

Got to go. You wouldn’t believe it. The queen wants me. Unusual. There’s a nasty smell on the patio. Grant, who does our garden has lifted an inspection cover and found that the drains are blocked. Will I do something about it? Yes. Find a plumber.

I’ll never get back to writing my book.

If you can stand the tension, come back soon.