A Different Kind of Story.
Trying to write a book based on your own life experiences is a rather arrogant aspiration: it assumes that other people will be interested in your actions and thoughts. I suppose when you are flying around the jungle in helicopters, SCUBA diving in warm tropical seas and sitting in Jacuzzis with French hookers, that might be a reasonable assumption to make, but when you are older and leading a more sedentary life, that might not be true.
Now, when I meet old friends, they often seem a little disappointed that I don’t regale them with stories of military adventure or amorous misadventure.
“You used to have such an interesting life, Jonny,” said a rugby playing buddy from my college years when last we met. “What happened?” I shrugged.
“I suppose I grew up.”
And that seems to be the essence of life for me now. Often, when my three beautiful sons are with their mother, the highlight of my weekend is walking the dog in the forest near my home. She is a beautiful dog and a faithful friend, but I had wanted a dog that would further define me as a soldier, as man. Perhaps a mastiff or ridgeback would have provided that depth but, inevitably, my wife’s preferences prevailed and so I ended up with a precocious blue eyed husky called Princess Panda.
As a puppy she could sit on my hand: a ball of fluff with pointy ears and sapphire blue eyes. Unfortunately, that was not her only resemblance to a Gremlin. She is also very intelligent and instinctively malevolent and I first realised that she could open the front door by herself when I discovered it swinging open one night soon after we had moved into a new house. I went out into the dark, rainy night to look for her, following the sounds of tortured squealing into a neighbour’s garden. There I saw Panda’s fluffy white tail wagging excitedly from inside the guinea pig hutch.
I had to go and introduce myself to my new neighbour and break the news that his daughter’s pet had been Panda food.
“Are you sure it was dead?” he asked. I nodded.
“It had no head.”
Maybe I’ll just tell a different kind of story.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Trouble-W...
Now, when I meet old friends, they often seem a little disappointed that I don’t regale them with stories of military adventure or amorous misadventure.
“You used to have such an interesting life, Jonny,” said a rugby playing buddy from my college years when last we met. “What happened?” I shrugged.
“I suppose I grew up.”
And that seems to be the essence of life for me now. Often, when my three beautiful sons are with their mother, the highlight of my weekend is walking the dog in the forest near my home. She is a beautiful dog and a faithful friend, but I had wanted a dog that would further define me as a soldier, as man. Perhaps a mastiff or ridgeback would have provided that depth but, inevitably, my wife’s preferences prevailed and so I ended up with a precocious blue eyed husky called Princess Panda.
As a puppy she could sit on my hand: a ball of fluff with pointy ears and sapphire blue eyes. Unfortunately, that was not her only resemblance to a Gremlin. She is also very intelligent and instinctively malevolent and I first realised that she could open the front door by herself when I discovered it swinging open one night soon after we had moved into a new house. I went out into the dark, rainy night to look for her, following the sounds of tortured squealing into a neighbour’s garden. There I saw Panda’s fluffy white tail wagging excitedly from inside the guinea pig hutch.
I had to go and introduce myself to my new neighbour and break the news that his daughter’s pet had been Panda food.
“Are you sure it was dead?” he asked. I nodded.
“It had no head.”
Maybe I’ll just tell a different kind of story.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Trouble-W...
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