I do not care that my television set is broken. I do not care that the picture has shrunk to the energy-saving size of a matchbox. And neither do I care that the manufacturer’s guarantee ran out last week.
Apart from The Simpsons, there is nothing worth watching anyway. Yesterday, on the local news, the constipated presenter informed me: ‘That’s it for the lunchtime bulletin. We’ll see you at six this evening when we’ll be meeting a woman who owns a shed.’
I rest my case.
Having more free time does provide for one the opportunity to explore new horizons, but my initial plan to simply ‘do more work’, may, I admit, require a little tweaking.
It’s hard being a very creative individual; you are always ‘on’. It is essential to flip the off switch occasionally, and without the mind-numbing, anodyne televisual content to which I have become accustomed to viewing in the evenings, I’m afraid I may once again be tempted by the accursed bottle to help me calm my active mind.
Yes, I know: I could read more – but it’s hard to find a book that does not inspire me in some wonderful way. Reading a well written novel is very energising and always leads to me picking up my guitar and beginning to write new songs. Besides, books? I’ve read them all.