How many drivers can drive their car into the wall of heroes in two hours?

I’m sat here at the computer typing away at the new book. I hadn’t realised just how enjoyable it is to write just plain old literary fiction. No sci-fi, no dragons, no lasers and certainly no roving death star-like moons out to destroy the planet of the funky retro hairstyles. I can see why so many authors write this kind of stuff. I just hope that my effort comes close enough to stand a chance on the bookshelves.

I’m watching the 2006 Canadian F1 Grand Prix. It shows me how much F1 has changed even over four years. It’s not a bad race so far, though I have to be honest that I’m merely listening as I write and only occasionally dropping into the video feed when excitement happens. Certainly compared to last Sunday’s Malaysian Grand Prix it was far more exciting. I think there is a lot of merit in the idea of spraying the track with water. It seems that in the last couple of years that the only interesting races have been those that have featured rain on the day.

Election day has been announced. Looks like it’ll be fun. Zoë has got me helping her with the leafleting campaign tomorrow. Luckily this time the conservatives haven’t given us the really rough estate (though I find a man with a can of beer and manky Y-fronts really about as unmenacing as anyone can get as he screws up a leaflet that just came through his letterbox whilst glaring at me). We also need to stop off on the way back and buy beans. Remember kids: you can never have too many tins of beans.

I have discovered the full scary extent of just how bad the double glazing job on this house was. I think the cowboy who fitted them didn’t need a ladder. Instead I gather he just lassooed the chimney whilst his horse waited at the door. Really, they have holes around the edges that from outside I can see the plasterboard of the inside. I’ve called the landlord three times now, but he never returns his calls. There are other issues too (leaky pipe, flickering electrics, mold in a bedroom that keeps on coming back). If we get no joy there will be a nasty letter and, if no reply comes from that, we’ll just get the repairs done and dock the cost from the rent money. I bet you the landlord will appear miraculously the moment the rent money falters to pay for the building work.