My Charming Spouse and I went up to Birmingham yesterday to sign the lease on her new place. She's teaching at the University of Wolverhampton, which as you may guess, is not actually in Birmingham. It's not in Wolverhampton either. It's in Walsall. But she couldn't find anywhere reasonably priced and unhellish in Walsall. Thus, the place in Birmingham.
Foolishly, I bought a book for the train journey and it turned out to be quite good. Whenever this happens, I am plunged into a mid-life crisis. It may sound odd to have repeated mid-life crises, but who among us really knows how long they are going to live? I have been having mid-life crises since I was seven years old. Hopefully, I'll go on having them until I'm well over a hundred.
Anyway, the crux of my frequent mid-life crises is that I haven't written a book myself yet. And the books I'm reading lately are the kind of books I could actually imagine myself writing: “Round Ireland with a Fridge”, “Playing the Moldovans at Tennis”, “French Revolutions”, “Do Not Pass Go”, and now, “Dave Gorman's Googlewack Adventure”. This last was especially painful as it is about a guy (Dave Gorman) who has a mid-life crisis because he hasn't written a novel yet, and then proceeds to go off on an adventure and write a really funny book about it which I end up buying and reading on a train.
All these books are about guys about my age going on weirdass adventures (usually involving some kind of drunken bet and a great deal of travelling) and then writing a book about it -- a funny book.
I started a book once, not really a novel because it was based on a true story. Basically, I went on a blind date which involved buying a car and driving all the way across Canada with a friend to meet a woman who was unfortunately in a mental institution when I arrived. Bit sad really, but with a touch of Movie of the Week bounce-backness at the end. We did have that date -- two in fact. The first one was in the patient's lounge. We played pool. I kicked her ass. No doubt because she was heavily medicated at the time. Then we had another date once she was back home. This one was far more pleasant: a picnic by the ocean and then a movie. The movie was Barton Fink, which perhaps was the best choice for someone recently released from a mental institution, but it worked out all right.
Anyway, that was a pretty good adventure. I could have churned out something from that with a bit of effort. It could have been ME that sparked off this genre instead of that gangly bastard Tony Hawks. Although, thinking about it, the genre may have begun somewhat earlier. “'Round the World in 80 days” is kind of like “'Round Ireland with a Fridge”. Not quite as funny perhaps, but still based on a stupid bet.
Maybe that's what I need -- a stupid bet. If only someone would bet me a pint to do something stupid. That seems an appropriate way to deal with a mid-life crisis: booze, gambling, and idiocy.