Can I Write? That’s a thought I’ve had following me around for quite a few years; in fact, every time someone pops out with the phrase “You should write a book.” I find myself thinking “Well I certainly have enough life tales to tell. Question is…could I put it all down on paper? Would I even dare? Then one day I found myself staring at a blank new document in my word processor with the intention of typing down anything that came into my head relating to past experiences. I had spent the past eighteen months fitting out a wide beam canal boat. It had been a fun thing to do, even though it ate all of our savings up. The thing is; as the boat interior started taking shape, I could see myself making it my little bolt hole. I found myself thinking more and more about writing a book in that bolt hole. Surely; we’ve all heard of those authors who go to the end of their garden to get peace and quiet down there in the garden shed; well, I could come to the boat every day, hide myself away, scratch my head and try to shake up old memories, then type away in my two finger qwerty style, till I got it all down in print. Do you know; when it came to actually starting to write, I couldn’t be bothered to get in the car and drive the ten miles to Ripon where the boat was moored; instead, I sat myself down in front of a computer in the music studio which is part of our home. “You’ve got a music studio?” I hear you say. Of course, I have; haven’t you? Every house should have one. There’s nothing like banging out a good tune on the piano after midnight just to annoy the neighbours! Only kidding, we don’t have any neighbours close enough to hear my racket. So, here is a recipe that works for me when I’m on a roll. I kick myself into sitting down there in the studio every afternoon around two o’clock to concentrate on writing for two hours, {which quite often ends up as four hours.} If I lose track or can’t get my thoughts in order, one of the guitars might find its way into my hands and force me to doodle around with some chords or sing a song in order to create a new perspective and refresh my thoughts. If I finish a writing session without any such disturbance, I have to make a cup of tea and then, maybe see how the piano sounds. Talking about playing the piano always reminds me of the ancient, out of tune piano I had to practice on when I was at Denham Court Children’s home in 1957. It was in the sun parlour, which was a room that had four massive windows looking out over the lawns to the River Colne which is in Buckinghamshire. In the summer, the room would be roasting from the sun, but then, in the winter, the room would be absolutely freezing as it had no heating of any kind and of course, being part of an old mansion, and with those huge windows, it had no insulation either. On really cold days, I would sit playing the piano and then start huffing on my fingers to get them warm. Which was quite different from the summer months, when I would be envious of all the other kids out playing on the lawns while I had to stay in to practice the piano. Still; If you’ve read my book ‘Walk A Narrow Line’ you probably already know all that.