I was speaking to somebody that I met through twitter - an author - with two published books.  As he is outside my immediate friends list I asked him to have a look at the web site - to get some feedback - some idea if I was just whittling on or if this cold go somewhere.

The feedback was very positive quotes like "a solid start", "strong stuff with potential" - nobody has made a comment yet - so I will have to stick with that for now, but I would like to say a big thank you to him for his encouragement, who says a Spurs fan and an Arsenal fan can't get on.

So I got pondering during my time on the road today - have I accidentally started to write a book? - could these words, the pages from my little old web site actually be turned into a book? - they say that we all have a book in us - so why cant this be mine.  I would have to get permission first, I couldn't just go for it, she would have to agree (I have realised I have never used her name, and I won't either) - but believe me I could write her name all day long - it is such a pretty name - as beautiful as her.

So I have looked through - and I have a middle - I have a middle of a book.  so I thought I would take this moment to go back to the beginning.

It was a friday when we first met - she had started work at the office and was going to be joining me at a remote office.  It took me all of .001 of a second to notice her - she was stunning, absolutely beautiful, she waltzed across the room - in fact she glided across the room. She threw me a glance and I think I smiled - I say think I just cant remember, I have never been one for flirting, I don't even know how to flirt - the only thing that was going through my mind was act cool, act calm and for god sake breath.

I had to sit with my manager and hand in my weekly report - I don't know what I waffled on about - every second I was not staring at the computer screen I was trying to locate her in the office.

I had to finish early that day - but as she was going to be working with me from Monday I had to arrange with her about getting there, when I would pick her up and where from.

We chatted for about 30 minutes - as I introduced myself I felt every word stumbled off my tongue and bounce around my lips, before ending up as some rambled garbage.  We eventually decided on a time and place and I left.  In those 30 minutes we spoke I had become smitten, I had turned into a teenager.

I don't think I walked to my car, I think I swaggered, I think I floated.  I don't think I ever told her, but that first 30 minutes, I noticed the sparkle in her eye, the smile on her lips and the softness in her voice.

For the first time ever - I wished away my weekend - I looked forward to Monday morning like it was the start of my weekend - and that is how it became - the weekend became my week at work, depressing and long and my week was my weekend with her, fun and perfect.

I guess that is what I am missing today - in the sudden thought of writing a book - I thought back to when I first met her - that Friday - that oh so perfect Friday.  Now every day feels like a weekend.

Whats kind of funny though is when I leave for work and drive away from my home town I feel that I am becoming distant from her, a memory - but as I return - just knowing that somewhere within the city she is there - radiant, beautiful and intoxicating - I know I just want to be with her, I am not driving home - I am driving back to her.

It's been a strange day today, it has almost been a little bit of a come down - like when the caffeine from a double espresso wears off and your body can breath a huge sigh of relief and finally relax - yet I can't just seem to take that sigh of relief or relax.  I can only imagine this is how giving up smoking would be, that sudden urge or desire to have one last smoke.  thats how this feels the urge to text or email is so strong. 

Why?

Because everything reminds me of her, the things we done together, the things we laughed at, the songs we sung, the movies we watched,  the dreams we dreamed.

It's funny how a single song can remind me of her, a single movie quote, a TV programme or a project in a house magazine.  I don't know if they are there to remind me of the good times or remind me not to give up - not to quit, not to forget her.  Don't get me wrong - I can take friends all day long, it's the urge to text or email without being, well, pestering.  So for now i will take option 2 - they are there to remind me not to forget her.

The irony of today was - I went somewhere we visited a lot, somewhere we used to meet for coffee - and what was there to greet me - A Dominoes pizza counter, we had only been waiting a year!

I saw a trailer for a movie today - a movie I know she would absolutely love to go and watch - a movie that's just her cup of tea (Yorkshire tea if you must know) and the thing is it's a movie that's just my cup of coffee, (I think that is the only thing we never had in common).  So I am going to end today's ponderation with a song from that movie, and I hope that if she reads today's blog, that she will agree to come and watch it with me.  why? just so I can hear her laugh and see her smile and she can listen to me get the lyrics wrong - because that is what makes me smile - it is seeing her laugh and smile, her perfect wonky smile.

I have changed one phrase - I hope she and The Proclaimers don't mind - but she did like the way I got the lyrics wrong - or stopped because I forgot them completely.

"I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)"

When I wake up, well, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out, yeah, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who goes along with you
If I get drunk, well, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver, hey, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who's havering to you

But I would walk five hundred miles
And I would walk five hundred more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door

When I'm working, yes, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who's working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I do
I'll pass almost every penny on to you
When I come home (When I come home), oh, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old, well, I know I want to be
I want to be the man who's growing old with you

But I would walk five hundred miles
And I would walk five hundred more
Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles
To fall down at your door