All that time ahead. 365 days. How on earth shall I fill it? What are my stratagems?
We are driving to my grandparents house- a journey of an hour and a half. I am 12. Somewhere on the far side of Tunbridge Wells I fall back on a tested stratagem for dealing with boredom; I will tell myself a story. The hero is a prince. He has black hair. He is on a ship and the ship is being attacked by flying demons and- a smell of hot leatherette, a growing ache in shoulders and jaw- I slowly realise he doesn't interest me in the least.
Let the demons eat him. What do I care?
The stratagem has failed.