SCENE - an author's office.
The author himself is typing away. 'Bond entered the room. The lovely young girl was astride the...'
Wearily the author goes to the door and calls down the stairs to his lady wife. "Yes, dear?"
"I'm off then. Don't forget to put the bins out."
"Oh, and this carpet could do with the hoover run over it."
"Yes, dear." He goes back to his typewriter, pauses a moment, then begins typing. "...astride the chair, hands cuffed behind her..."
This time he doesn't go to the door. He merely calls out. "Yes, dear?"
"Could you put the oven on at twelve? The Pratchetts are coming for dinner and I thought we'd have duck."
"Oh, and don't forget the bins, will you? There's plastic bottles all over the conservatory."
The door closes and there is a pause of some seconds. Long enough for him to turn his chair back to his desk.
There is a knock at the front door.
"Morning, Mr Fleming! Lovely day. Would you mind taking in this parcel for Number Eleven? Think they've popped out."
"I suppose so."
Ian places the parcel on the table in the hall, signs for it, and closes the front door. Wearily he treads his way back up the stairs and settles himself at his desk. 'cuffed behind her. Doctor X had his rifle trained on her..'
The telephone rings.
"Mr Fleming? Could you come and pick up Alicia, please? She says she feels sick and her teacher says she's looking very peaky."
A sigh. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
The front door bangs. "Dad! Daaaaad!"
"Yes, Simon? I thought you were at Henry's all day."
"Yeah. Was. Came back to pick up me trainers. Can you run us over to Sebastian's? We're at band practice tonight and his dad says we can use the garage."
"Just a minute. I have to pick up your sister first."
There is another knock at the front door. "Good morning! Can you spare us five minutes? We're doing a survey on the different types of pipecleaner that people use..."
"Sorry, I'm a little bit busy."
"DAD! It's school on the phone, Alicia's been sick all over the infants again, can you bring a change of clothes for her?"
"Just a minute."
Ian Fleming climbs the stairs and enters his office. He stares at his typewriter for a moment, before pulling the half-used sheet of paper off the platen and throwing it into the bin. He replaces it with a clean sheet and starts to type.
'See Spot run. Run, Spot, run. See the dog run.'
And the motto of this story is - JUST BECAUSE WE'RE AT HOME WRITING, DOES NOT MEAN WE'RE AT HOME!
Sigh. I bet Terry Pratchett doesn't have to put up with it. Plus, in other news, I have been awarded a 'Versatile Blogger Award' which means I have to tell you things about me that you don't already know. That is for next week.... so you might want to have a notepad beside you.