All Along The Watchtower

‘All along the watch tower the princes kept their view…’

If you haven’t heard Jimi Hendrix playing that Bob Dylan song (Yes, of course I am ancient!) you are missing out… Big time. Well, I think so. And that line is the beginning of the last verse, which ends with a rider approaching and the wind kicking up into a howling storm. You never know exactly why there are so many princes stuck up on the watch tower but you can bet that rider is bringing some important news. I always hope it’s going to make them happy but I know deep down that it won’t. (Cue in thundery, gloomy doomy  music at this point).

And so I have to have a watch tower in my next story,  but I don’t have much time for loads of princes (What have they ever done for me?) so they are definitely not going to be up there standing around watching. Instead, I see a young lad, curly black hair, and he’s sharp as a Jamie Oliver kitchen knife. He’s peering out over these massive walls- Imagine Hadrian’s Wall and then go; ‘Pah! They’re just squiffy small compared with the ones that guard the city in Daniel Finn’s story.’- And he sees something coming his way. It has a thousand stinking feet and a thousand bloodshot eyes and a thousand bellies that ache with hunger….

It sounds grim.

Believe me, I hadn’t thought of this at all before I just started writing a moment ago. So, whatever happens, remember this: IT IS YOUR FAULT!

Happy Christmas from me, Daniel and him, Will.