Read an exceprt from the latest offering that I have started writing. It is called Fifty-Seven Miles, and it tells stories about some of the people who I encounter on my commute to work each day, and about incidents tha happen. In the book, I make up scenarios for various regulars who puctuate my journey. Here's an excerpt.
'I have encountered him many times on the Long Furlong Hill. Always on a Tuesday. It doesn’t matter whether I left home at 6.36 or 6.50, I always get stuck behind Andy at roughly the same spot up the hill, in the middle of the road, doing 30, red scarf trailing.
Today is Tuesday. And there he is, holding the world at bay, as he makes his way up the hill on his old bike.
I wonder who he is, where he lives, why he gets on the ancient bike every Tuesday, and wends his way slowly towards .. towards where?
It strikes me, that for years, Andy and I had interacted on the road for as long as it takes for him to reach the top of the hill, then the roundabout, which is where the line of delayed motorist roars past him. It is where I see the last of Andy each Tuesday.'