You know you’re getting old when … time seems to go faster and faster. Well, at least that’s how it seems to me.

Okay, I’m not ancient, but I do find that I’m much more aware of time passing now than I used to be. I mean, how can it be February already? It feels like the year only started last week!

Being a writer is a bit disorientating though, when it comes to keeping track of time. Not just because when I write I’m in a completely different world, although that’s part of it. Mostly it’s because I don’t have to keep to a schedule. No one says I have to sit at my desk at 9.00, have a break for lunch at 12.30-1.30 and finish at 5.00. That’s one of the absolute greatest things about writing – no boss, no constraints. And you don’t have to make endless cups of tea/coffee for anyone else either! (As a former secretary, that is one thing I really appreciate.)

I do have a boss though, sort of – a small black dog. Small Black Dog is fairly patient with this writing malarkey and sleeps curled up under my chair for hours on end. But he does insist on regular breaks, especially a long walk in the park every day at lunchtime. And it’s no good telling him I’m in the middle of a particularly tricky scene that I need to finish first. Anyone would think he had a built in clock (in fact, I’m sure he does), because he never lets me get away with so much as an extra five minutes of writing time without letting me know that he resents it. Small Black Dog is very, very good at communicating without words, especially resentment!

I guess I shouldn’t complain though. Without Small Black Dog, I would be the ultimate couch potato because I hate exercise in any way, shape or form. Unless you count going down the stairs, opening the fridge door and taking out a piece of chocolate, then closing the fridge door and going back upstairs again as exercise? No, thought not … It does help the thought processes though, so the chocolate is entirely necessary. I swear!

Why won’t anyone believe me?