I’m talking about doing two things at once. Or even two things in succession, to say nothing of three, four or five.
My inability may just be the result of the business I’ve been in for the past 200 years, but I find it extremely difficult to write in the morning, stop working, stop thinking about work, and then, for example, do a spot of gardening. It could explain why my garden is mostly planted out with grass, trees and wild flowers (otherwise known as weeds).
As an aside I have to tell you that I haven’t cut grass for about thirty years. A man called Dave comes every fortnight, and has done for all time, and mows the lawn. It’s my one true indulgence and I feel as though I’ve got away with something…
Anyway, back to the ‘natural’ state of my garden. Due to its untouched nature, a pair of kestrels have nested in an owl box high up in one of the horse chestnut trees. I’m flattered. They may be small but they are still hawks - and I’ve left a copy of The Nathan Hawk books - Haggard Hawk, Easy Turn, Scattered Remains, Evil Turn and Jericho Road - at the foot of the tree and await their comments.
And meantime I’ve got stuck into The Fire Pit, wrenching myself away from grandchildren. It isn’t a Nathan Hawk mystery, or even a detective story, but a ten-pin bowling kind of tale: the skittles get knocked over but always manage to stand up again, until the next time they get clobbered.
I can feel myself rambling and the reason for that is the central character in The Fire Pit - Marcus Lawlor - tends to do the same. Don’t worry, I won’t let him go on until you want to break his neck. He stops himself, just like I’m doing now. And then he gets on with the story, like I’m also doing now…