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Second Life (21) Part deux.
　
Midsummer, 1967, on the drive of my father’s house at Radcliffe. I am sitting on a battered old Tiger Cub, the engine ticking over bumpily,matching the rhythm of my heart.
I am 14 years old.
My father says :"This is the throttle. Twist it and you go faster This is the clutch : let it out and you move forward, pull it in and you lose power. And this is the- "
Too late. Always impetuous, I drop the clutch and twist the throttle. ...

Second Life (21)
　
　
　
　
　
August 8th, 2000. Donington Park racetrack. Conditions : Sunny and warm. YEEEEE HAH !!
　
My head is as far under the bubble screen as possible, the throttle is wide open and I drift over to the left of the start/finish straight, aiming for the pit exit to give me the fastest line into the right-handed Redgate corner. The engine screams on the rev limiter as I head straight for the turn-in, then I’m hard on the brakes, ...

Second Life (20)
　
A very pleasant young man called round today to check that our burgular alarm was working properly and was "fit for purpose", as the modern saying goes.
The same pleasant young man has called every year for eight years and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that, these days, I very rarely set it at night.
Mainly because I never sleep for longer than two hours at a stretch and I’m always wandering upstairs and downstairs; for a drink, for ...

Second Life (19)
　
I have spent the last 5 weeks in solitary splendour, whilst my dear wife has frolicked around in Malaysia, Japan and Brazil, staying in luxury hotels, dining off the finest of local cuisine and waited on hand, foot and toes by lithe, semi-naked natives.
(I know, I know – I’ll pay heavily for that sentence.)
Over these weeks, I have had ample time to reflect on the joys of one’s own company and I’ve come to the following conclusions :
1. There ...

Second Life (18)

As I write this, my hands are shaking, my heart is pounding somewhat erratically and I have a tremendous urge to bite every one of my fingernails down to the bloody bone.
I doubt if I will get much sleep tonight and I may not even bother to go to bed.
Nope, it isn’t alcohol. It isn’t drugs. And I am entirely disinterested in the result of my latest MRI scan.
It’s simply that tomorrow is Gold Cup day at Cheltenham.
Just typing that sentence ...