Here’s an absurd and not very illuminating insight into column writing. Yesterday morning, amid a shattering crisis of inspiration, I plonked myself down at the laptop, opened up a blank word document and just stared at the screen for ages.
In fact, I stared at the screen for so long, I became uncomfortable with my own reflection staring back at me and had to get up and leave the room in the same kind of agitated way you’d move carriages on a train when you become aware of some muttering, grinning eccentric trying to catch your attention.
Upon my return, I looked out of the window and noticed a couple of tradesmen working in a house across the road. During a two-hour period of clattering, battering industry, they heaved out bricks, floorboards, worktops, units and a sink. Over that same time span, your correspondent hadn’t typed a bloomin’ word.
