Did Drake invent the propeller?, and a literary masterpiece is born.

 Today I have almost too much to write about. ain't that always the way - famine then feast.
Yesterday we awoke at Paddington to find that Doug and James had taken Chance from under our very noses before we had chance to say hello let alone goodbye. Bon voyage(s) chaps, next time maybe.

We took a bus or two down to Southwark where the cathedral organ was being played by one James Paget, who as it turns out is the director of music at a church in Little Venice. anyway, he was very good and he'd picked a programme of music to suit that particular organ and by jove it did. Not the loudest organ I have ever heard, but the music made it sound wonderful, especially the softer pieces. Now I have to look up the fancy modern French composers whose music was so brill. I knew a bloke once who rebuilt a church organ in his spare bedroom. I'm not sure Kath would be persuaded somehow.

Next we walked all of the fifty yards to Borough Market which sadly had almost finished for the day, but we liked it nevertheless and promised ourselves to go back for the variety of international foodstuffs you can get there. We spent a lot of dough on bread. (Sorry). Nice place too. You have to go round singing "underneath the arches" because it is.

Walking down Clink Street where there was once a prison (ah that's where the word came from) we came to the worryingly small repica of Drake's Golden Hind. How the heck did he go all that way with all those men in a glorified bath tub. They claim it is an authentic full size replica, in which case Drake should have more credit for the invention of the propeller don't you think.

Next Kath went to the beach

No we didn't catch a train to Brighton, this is what the low tide reveals near Blackfriars. Next time we'll bring our deck chairs.
Then, then, wait for it, we made our way back to Herbie where (drum roll) I got to the end of writing my novel!!!!!!! Note I didn't say I had finished it, but I have got to the end. Untangled all the knots and got my hero out of the messes he had got himself into. Now I have a lot of work to tidy up and hone my deathless prose.
I did set out to write 80,000 words, but the story came to a neat end at just over 71,000. Still, that's ten thousand more than All Quiet on the Western Front, and fifteen thousand more than Farenheit 451 and within a whisker of Catcher in the Rye, so if it's good enough for them . . .
Looking up those facts made me think I ought to compare my literary prowess with other famous authors and their great works of fiction. I chose a number of categories: length, which have already mentioned; humourous content; romance; up to dateness; historical accuracy; and action
My book stands up incredibly well. It is:
Funnier (arguably) than Milton's Paradise Lost
More romantic than The Very Hungry Caterpillar
More up to date than Pride and Prejudice
More historically accurate than 2001 a Space Oddyssey
and more action packed than Death in Venice
I reckon I'm on to a winner don't you?
While I bring it to the absolute peak of perfection I have sent a copy of the current draught to one of my most trusted blog readers who knows me well enough to tell me what is wrong with it. Her reply could be very long.
Oh well, I actually did it and I actually enjoyed it. Sometime I will release it to an unsuspecting world (probably electronically) and if a dozen people get to the end without chucking it out or falling asleep I will be over the moon. Writing it has been an amazing experience. What I didn't expect was that the characters would somehow tell me what to write. I shall miss them now.
We did more stuff in London today, but I'll tell you about that next time.

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