Yesterday, I felt fifteen again.  I am not working at the moment, so I can write.  This is my chance, my opportunity to see whether I can make it as an author.  So why am I now acting like a teenager in the run-up to exams and finding excuses to not sit down and write.  So, the washing is up to date and everything is looking very tidy, but the writing is going more slowly than I hoped.  Must try harder...

The story started well, but like the certainty in the main character’s mind, it slowly unravelled.  Things ground to a halt, in a morass of trivia.