Absolutely no pressure, guys.

Happy Friday!

I'm going to keep this short. We're on a tight deadline for the final episode of Foiled, and Beth will soon be arriving for a full day of work.

Work on the first three episodes sprawled over the span of three months. We have only 18 days until we record the fourth.

As if that wasn't enough, Beth has pulled off a coup of infeasible proportions and guest starring in this episode will be NAME REDACTED.

Yes, NAME REDACTED. A man with not one but two REDACTED; a man who has played REDACTED, REDACTED and Hitler; a man whose last REDACTED in a REDACTED won him REDACTED.

So we have 18 days to write for Britain's greatest living REDACTED. No pressure.

The grassroots cycling project
crossing Europe for refugees

There’s a thunderstorm rolling in over northwestern Greece. Cracks of lightning illuminate the sky; one half a clear blue and the other a tempestuous jet black. A group of 12 tired and sweaty cyclists have stopped on the road outside a few scattered farm buildings — the only shelter in sight.

After a discussion in broken Greek and English, Spiros, a local farmer with a penchant for shotguns, climbs on top of a tractor and ushers the exhausted group into this barn to take refuge for the night. As they’re stretching their tired muscles and eyeing the storm raging outside, Spiros’ elderly mother appears, to serve the group a three-course dinner, crowned with a handmade spanakopita.

Yay! Read this Thighs of Steel feature in Huck Magazine - credit Alex King.

And, if you fancy, donate to Help Refugees here...

If you like this sort of thing, then you'll probably also like my back catalogue of over 500 posts, all found at davidcharles.info.

I've published 5 books, including stories of hitch-hiking from London to Ben Nevis, and cycling 4,110 miles around Britain. Visit my tiny book shop.

The ebooks are Pay What You Want, so you choose the price tag. Can't say fairer than that.

You'll all be aware that Monday is both Messi's and my birthday. Which means that Tuesday must be George Orwell's.

Orwell is, of course, best known for Ending Communism, but I've always rather fancied his essay Why I Write:

All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention.

Quite so. If you'd like to satisfy that instinct, then feel free to pay your respects to me on Monday, and join me in paying mine to George on Tuesday, at his graveside in Sutton Courtenay.

Much love, - dc

CREDITS

David Charles wrote this newsletter. David is co-writer of BBC Radio sitcom Foiled, and also writes for The Bike Project, Forests News, Elevate and Thighs of Steel. Reply to this email, or read more at davidcharles.info.