Why write anyway? Words are fun, I reckon. Words can be playful, amusing, frightening, inspiring (maybe), annoying (certainly) and in the wrong hands they can do a lot of damage. But to me, words are fun. Not as fun, say, as waking up one morning to discover I’ve got my choice of superpowers (invisibility? laser vision? flying?) but fun nontheless. Writing is one of things that there is simply never enough time to do. Which is to say, it’s actually one of the important things. To me. So it’s out with the some of the more urgent, less important things, and time to make some words. Come and play, it’ll be fun.

…oh, and there’s a place I used to live where the sun beats down, and everything you need can be found at the side of the road. If you look past the chaos of the traffic, the dirt and the dust, if you (for once) don’t look up at the hills, hanging in the distance like a call to adventure, if you (say), happen to have a faulty spark plug or are in dire need of having something welded, you will see them. They don’t have any official expertise, nothing you would call training as such; but they will give anything a go. No manufacturer’s warrantee here; this is a world where the only thing that matters is whether it works; or not. They may have no roof to keep off the fierce sun, but the jua kali will take something that you thought would never work again, hit it very hard (probably) and, well, it might just come back to life.

…jka