Tuesday 17th June
04:45 Silence alarm clock and open eyes.
04:55 Get out of bed and contemplate dressing.
05:05 Dress and go to the main house for breakfast.
05:20 Recommence digging the earth around the olive trees.
07:20 … No.
Already I realise that I can’t do this. It isn’t funny or true without the stuff I can’t write.
I first realised it on Friday night, which was the first time I became properly intoxicated in a way that, despite astonishing advances in science and technology and … well, in science and technology, is still considered by some – including most of the world’s law enforcement personnel – as a cause for some concern. So we won’t mention it. Suffice to say, it was under the purely positive influence of this beautiful, powerful, perception-enhancing herb that I realised I’m going to have to save most of the really juicy stuff that’s happening here for a novel.
Because all of the juicy stuff revolves around the people, and I can’t write what I want to, because it wouldn’t all be positive. Most of it would, but not all of it. And not only do I want to guard against personally upsetting anyone, or indeed incriminating anyone, I also don’t want to burn any bridges, sink any ships, blot any copy books, or shoot myself in the kazoo. Again.
So yeah, a novel. I already had a rough idea of two characters I would like to send on a WWOOFing trip around Italy. Now, as I’m experiencing the meat and bones of the plot firsthand – or at least the bones – I’m thinking of them, and how they might react to events as they unfold.
What a funny thing.
They’re called Rebecca and Hal, by the way. For the moment. Welcome them into your hearts. In less than four years’ time, you will see them portrayed by Carey Mulligan and Paddy Considine in the as-yet-untitled but almost certainly Oscar-winning film adaptation of the Booker Prize-winning novel. Or not. Who knows?
What a world, eh? What a world.
Ti bacio, ti abbraccio.
Here is a photograph…