Purple Prose

We’ve just started a new contract for a new client.

Already burdened with laptop, moby, samples, tennis kit and 2 liters of Coke, I grabbed a small notebook to take with me. Not used for ages (until this morning), it fell open at this bit of purple prose:

Larkhall Park, South Lambeth. 17^th April 2005

Early for lunch, I killed an hour reading in Larkhall Park while a few miles away, Paula Radcliffe won the London Marathon.

I closed my eyes and heard birdsong, the distant thud of kicked footballs, the tap tap tap and quiet panting of joggers.

I opened them to perfect azure clarity and jets looking like scale models hanging overhead.

So idyllic, I didn’t want to leave and sit in a dark restaurant for a couple of hours.

Hummmmmm well it’s sort of OK, but it’s probably for the best that I never managed to finish that novel started in the 1990s.