When I'm up? Doesn't seem fair.
At least my wife is doing the school-run this morning, so as soon as I've posted this blog I can settle in for some serious writing. (Wouldn't it be great if I actually had an idea? Still, nothing's perfect!)
I'm re-reading "Silent Spring" (Rachel Carson) one of the early "green" books and I was shocked to realise it was published in 1962, 44 years ago, four times my daughter's eleven years.
That's frightening. I think of the book as contemporary, and to my daughter it must be a historical artefact. Apparently I sing when driving (I have the worst male voice in the whole of Wales) and yesterday I was singing "Eve of Destruction" by Barry Maguire. My daughter asked me what it was (a ploy to stop me singing) and I told her.
It is so strange to not feel old but the calendar says something else. Us children of the sixties (and we mean teenagers then), all that flower-power, Kennedy's Death, Martin Luther King, Bobby K, "Let's Go to San Fransisco". Radio Caroline and the start of Radio One (Flowers in the Rain), The Beatles, Stones, oh sheesh.
My God we dreamed a lot.
A few prompts from the pre-official batch at Boot Camp this morning
Supper With Franz
Half Welsh, Half-Human
This Isn't About E M.
Travelling to Key West
Dark Red Biplane Flying Across the Sub
Minor, Miner, Minor, Mynah
A story beginning, "They Brought Him Out Just after One O'clock
She Was Beautiful