At the start of the day my intentions were clear: no writing today. I was ahead of myself with Nano, so no need to do that, I could just write a gentle blog post, do the crossword and have a cup of tea, after which the day could unfold as it wished. Well, what it wished was for me to begin a whole new story, using the title of a previous story but taking it in a whole ‘nother direction. And bang! Before I knew it I’d written an extra 2,000 words.
So that’s all good.
Next I thought I’d go out and deliver some leaflets for the election. What could possibly go wrong? Well, apart from the paranoid image I have of coming across some Tory householder who would release the hounds in the manner of Monty Burns, not much surely? Yet I’d not delivered two leaflets before I turned into the drive of a nearby house behind a hedge and stopped dead at what I saw.
Though there’s no sign outside I know this place to be a shelter for asylum-seekers, so when I saw a man covered in tattoos and wielding a cricket bat, you can imagine what thoughts went through my mind.
I whipped straight back home and called the police, first locking the door and checking that I hadn’t been followed. I told the woman what I’d seen and she said they’d send an officer to investigate. Resisting the urge to ask ‘will you let me know?’ like Tony Hancock donating blood, I put the phone down and carried on with my day. But I was curious to know what the outcome was. And that I think is the key to the success of ‘true crime’ programmes – because you get to know the outcome whereas in real life you usually don’t have a clue. Unless it’s a big case which is reported in the paper, you generally don’t find out what happened. I suspect what happened in this case is that the man with the cricket bat had scarpered long before the police got there. Either that or he was arrested. Or possibly cautioned. Or none of the above. I just don’t know.
I probably shouldn’t even be telling you this…
And now I’ll have to kill you.