I'm working in a proper job again. It has come to this.

Yesterday though, was a day for writing. And going for walks. On my lunchtime walk, I wandered past a car garage, with blokes' bodies emerging from under Datsuns and so on.

The difference was, this car garage had no Triple M booming out of it. It had no Golden Hits of The Eighties, either. It had a guy, a real guy, with a moustache, playing a mandolin.

Wandering around, playing a mandolin to the guys with their heads under cars.

I've never wanted to be a mechanic before, but now I kind of like the idea.