Part One: Life in a converted municipal garage…

Ten benefits of blogging as a hobby

1. It doesn’t cost much (unless you write bad things about people and they sue)

2. You can comfortably listen to music at the same time, unlike when you’re talking (one of my least favourite hobbies)

3. Ditto with eating

4. You don’t need a loud voice to be heard

5. At last the quiet people have got a good excuse for staying in of an evening

6. It doesn’t matter whether you’re from Leicester, Leeds, Lichfield or London, in the world of blogging there’s only one big, happy family.

7. Well, apart from the fact that I’m being forced to write this blog by Saul Pope to promote his novel (more of that later)

8. It’s a marvellous reflective tool, which can help me understand where my life may be headed (so Pope tells me)

9. Most of what’s written on blogs is more interesting than watching cheap makeover/house conversion programmes (admittedly, it’s a close call)

10. You can even do it from the comfort of a converted municipal garage, as I am doing right now

Yes, I’m back, no longer basking in the luxury and paranoia of life in a ninth-floor apartment towering over Bolshevik Avenue, St. Petersburg, but instead wrapped in a blanket and taking my Coca-Cola at room temperature in a garage nestled in an over-crowded satellite town ten miles from London.

Luckily the money I earned from spending another year as Vladik’s personal English teacher, gym trainer, football coach (he wants to make the Russian national team by his 18th birthday; I wore my Leicester City  shellsuit to one of the English lessons and the job was mine) and latterly driver (also how I lost that job) means that I have enough to live upon for the foreseeable future, meaning that I comfortably ‘between jobs’, able to devote my time to making lists, recording new cassettes of my favourite songs (no plans to move to MP3 just yet) and looking at the reference books in the local library.

And no, I’m not ashamed of this – you, dear taxpayer, don’t support me; I worked hard for those New Russians, and, if you remember, was even brave enough to take the job after I thought they were gangsters. Of course, they weren’t anything of the sort – instead they were nice, very rich, people who liked to have various types of servant. Maybe one day they’ll forgive me and I’ll get my job back…at least that would get Mum off my case.

Why an overcrowded satellite town just outside London? Because London Mark’ll never find me here. You may remember him from the book, he was a bit odd and nowhere near as great as this so-called  Pope has puffed him up to be. Not long after the exciting ending of the tale, he started calling me, and somehow he even got my home address in Leicester. He keeps saying something about a letter he should have given to me. Mum and Dad are on red alert should he call again, and under strict instructions to follow the script I’ve left by the phone (‘no…he’s moved to Luton, where he’s working for a taxidermist who doesn’t like people taking private calls in the office), but in the meantime there’s no suggestion that he’s tracked me down to here.

And why am I writing this blog? Not for fun…I’m a neo-luddite that hates computers (that list at the beginning was just me trying to motivate myself). Unfortunately I’m being blackmailed by an author from Leicester called Saul Pope, who somehow found out about my story and made it into a novel. He claims to know where The Man lives, and says he’ll reveal my location to him unless I help to promote the novel with an amusing blog and a plug for the book.

So here goes…click here if you want to purchase a quite funny novel that won’t be winning the Booker Prize any time soon. Have a look at the other links on the right for a synopsis and some extracts. Enough, Mr Pope – I refuse to partake in any more of your dirty work.

As for Olesya…she’s not someone I can talk about at the moment. Maybe in a future blog…

I’ve been told to end with a song, so how about something to cheer everyone up? Why did Sunshine on a Rainy Day by Zoe disappear off the radar so fast? An uplifting classic, a bit like eating three packets of iced gems in a row and discovering that you still don’t feel sick…

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One thought on “Part One: Life in a converted municipal garage…

  1. […] Below is part six of his story. If you’d prefer to start at the beginning, then click here. […]

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