Early memories are fallible. Two-storey houses become bungalows, lines of poplars disappear, schoolfriend dates no longer synchronise. But here’s one that had a sequel. When very young I believed metal (didn’t matter which) was the hardest thing on earth. Then I saw an adult hacksawing off the pointed tips of nails protruding from a sheet of wood. How could metal cut metal?Eventually I found the answer but that brief mystery retained its magic. Decades later, on professional visits to industrial plants, I saw metal cutting metal in its latest guise. Drill bits in mechanised systems easing effortlessly into blocks of machined steel. Lathes releasing elegant spirals of swarf from workpieces. Powered saws tirelessly sawing. The very heart of manufacturing; beauty born out of efficiency. It’s one of the themes in my novel.
OLD AGE WINS In 2007, in Zermatt, illness combined with a decaying body signalled an end to my thirty years of ski-ing. This traumatic moment generated not an ounce of sympathy among non-skiers. Skis lie in the attic and should be sold. Then it snowed heavily in Hereford and I found a use for my après-ski boots while others were squelching around in wet trainers. Yah sucks boo.
VORACIOUSNESS When asked how she would occupy her retirement Mrs BB replied: “By reading.” And so she has at the rate of 220 books a year. To keep up with what she’s got through she enters summaries in her “little book”. Here’s one: “The Infinities” by John Banville, 6 (out of 10). Dying mathematician and family visited by Zeus, Hermes and Pan. Beautifully written nonsense.Very little of our reading overlaps.
Novel progress 8/1/10. Ch. 11: 0 words. Chs. 1 - 10: 44,765 words. Comments: Day devoted to editing and re-editing, including first two paras of Ch, 1.
