I've had to cancel all engagements. Producers and publishers are ushered into my small but fine-boned china kitchen. They ask awkward questions about the football noises upstairs. I laugh and explain there's a giant badger up there practising keepie-uppie with an old, leather football. They laugh, thinking they know my off-the-wallpaper sense of humour. But the grunts and whoops of the big, bad badger are unnerving especially when he moves the goalposts to make scoring easier. As a result, contracts are pocketed and must wait for a more salubrious day.
I show one suit, eager to squeeze out the front door, my Badgers of Beechen Cliff book and show my list of downloads and its reviews. He's interested but when the walls begin to shake and the welcome mat leaves home, he decides to come back another day. Or so he says.
What can I do about this unwanted guest. I daren't tell the authorities. They'll send a sniper in the middle of the night and my jim-jams are black and white!
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