The unthinkable day has finally arrived.

I'm going to do something I never thought I would do - without the loss of my finger nails. I always suspected that after I croaked, my wife would sell my motorbike, or dance around it while it burned in the garden, but I never, ever thought the day would dawn when I did it myself, and voluntarily.

    The bike is old, it's accumulated enough mileage to ride three times round the world and frankly, it's long past its best. Parts, although easy enough to find are becoming ever more expensive and I always swore that should it come to this time I would sell it, even though I never really thought it would happen.

    So tomorrow, one final wash and polish then into the internet sales site with it. It will be a tearful day because I love that bike. It looks good, sounds great and gets me home in a third of the time it would if I had to drive.

    On the other hand; ever since I bought my tablet, I've begun to write a lot more. In fact, much to the chagrin of my boss, that's all I seem to do these days. So now, when I clamber into the antediluvian rolling stock that we call an underground system in London, I'll be able to do a lot more, so all is not lost. My life will be considerably safer, my writing will improve (if only in volume) and I won't spend the hour after arriving at work and at home shivering like an old wino as it never seems to rise above 1 degree in temperature these days - and that's in the summer.

    And on the plus, plus side - I still have my new m/bike when I have writer's block. A fair deal all round, I'd say.