Ten months later, Thousand for Thirty is finished, just as we all knew it would be. The doubters have been cast into the ocean and a brutal peace has been forced upon the realm.
I, as one of the doubters, am writing this from the sea floor. It is cold and wet and the fish will not leave me alone.
The first of the final two pieces is I met him in the car park, which I started months ago and finally finished today. Despite what the title makes even me think, it’s not a story about cottaging.
The final one, number thirty, the big three-oh, is The Marketing Campaign. I don’t care if you don’t like it because it’s about quantity not quality and as far as I am concerned the two are mutually exclusive so leave me alone.
Anyway, it was all pointless because the thing that still gets most praise is The Mountaineering Journal of a Dick, which was one of the first things I wrote on here.