Writing the, uh, novel

Can you sense the fear in the nation? The Con-Dem lookers are patting us on the back and afterwards it feels wet. Touch it, that's blood from the Stanley blade they just smilingly drew across you. Keep your feet dry, buy a stout pair of boots. This hi-tech age of austerity is going to hurt.

*sigh*

I can't get into Twitter. I follow a handful of people, and it takes me most of the spare time I have to read their contributions. As for making my own, the effort of reducing my thoughts to 140 characters eludes me. The effort of having anything to say to my six followers - one of whom is Nick Clegg, another is a photography company - is also beyond me.

This morning, I wrote.