BOLT JOLT PANIC phhtt

No, that title is not a line from a duet sung by Serge Gainsbourg and BB. It's a wild, crazed plea from me to you.

Oh such a yearning, such a desire for change, some excitement, a thrill, all i want to do is up and bolt.

Do you ever want to bolt? Do you? Do you ever want to up and run? Do you? impassioned plea Errol Brown style , please.

Skye Mangel and me, who'd've thought. I really must stop watching Neighbours it's filling my head with such crazed fanciful notions. Why, the old neighbs has got positively subversive these days.

Oh to be tied to the tedium of work and bound by the bank until the end, not to mention the ennui and malaise, it's a positive drag and a like fully scary prospect.

And all I can do is carp and demean, I know, so tedious for you.

i've recently learnt that many, many, positively loads, right, jobs in my neck of the woods will be scrapped so no doubt i'll be longing for the job ball and chain soon. bet your bottom dollar you'll be reading about that too. Still it could create the much needed jolt of adrenalin, which is a strange phenomenon for me as i generally feel as though i've been more of a driver than a passenger on life's great highway. Curious given my lack of driver's licence, have achieved so much, you see.

Wonder whether you're a passenger or a driver, well you won't have to wonder too long, a quiz regarding your modus operandi in life will be blogged shortly. Still if you're waiting for it by Friday, you pretty much fall in the passenger category.

Anyhoo enough of this moaning.

I know what i need to do, I need to write a book.

Nothing big mind, no airport blockbuster or Oprah book club just yet, and i should leave the Pulitzer for the genius that is G. Brooks.

Actually i might write a book about England from wwii until 1963, touching on the cold war, villainous foreigners, gypsies, smugglers, ingots and life with four children, high on ginger pop, macaroons and tinned tongue, and a confounded dog who cannot help but fall into adventures. It will be called Quent and written from the perspective of the brilliant scientist "Uncle Quentin" Barnard of Kirrin Cottage.

Hurrah!

Hodder and Stoughton or Little Golden Books here i come.