Why I don't want to mow the lawn today

It's Sunday afternoon, 12.20pm (BST) and the smell of roast beef is wafting from the kitchen through to the lounge where I sit with my laptop on my knees typing this. But on pain of not getting any Sunday lunch my wife requires me to get out of my chair, into the garden and mow the lawn. After lunch, there will probably a number of other horticultural tasks available for me to do, in addition to helping look after our young kids aged 4 and 3.

At the risk of stating the obvious, I don't want to mow the ruddy lawn! I want to be working on book-related things. I have got a number of ideas for pushing my Smugglers children's book and I also want to be rolling up my sleeves thinking up ideas for book number two.

And yet, an afternoon in the garden beckons. Ok, that's not such a terrible chore, I'm just mindful of the fact that today is Sunday, I'm sailing through it fast, I spent all yesterday helping my parents who were taking part in Open Garden Day to raise money for their village church and tomorrow, I'm sorry to tell you, is MONDAY again.

When oh when will get some quality time to work at being a novelist? I just have to make time I suppose. And now my wife has summoned me to the kitchen to help prepare lunch. Oh well . . .