The Volcanic Ash Cloud of Doom

Well - it's ten at night and I'm glad to be back home - home with the kids and the missus. 24 hours on and off planes and I've made it back at last.

There was a point with this volcanic ash cloud of doom where I seriously considered jumping on the next container ship headed West from Singapore or chancing my arm driving a clapped-out moped across Asia and back through Europe (the poor man's version of Mcgreggor Boorman's long way round). Luckily - someone had a word with the met office and told them to look out the window...."there's no frikkin' dust cloud over the UK you morons!" And lo-the skies were laden once more with holidaymakers and angry businessmen. Wahoo!

I was also kinda hoping for a lift on a war ship (ahhh - you can tell it's an election year). But it sounds like the Navy chickened out and bobbed about a few miles out to sea off the coast of Spain. Which is just as well - I'm pretty sure the locals weren't too happy with the Ark Royal looming up on the horizon. Try to tell them Trafalgar was only 205 years ago!

And so...peace and tranquilty descends...a baby scream here...a trapped finger on a drawer there. A dinosaur T-Rex full-on battle assault here - a light sabre death fight there. And somewhere in between - in rapid staccatto typo bursts...I write. But mainly - as all writers will testify - I find time in the secret bits of the day when everyone else has gone to bed or no-one is looking. Like now...

Speaking of which - gotta go...another brutal death to imagine...