Enjoying the Swiss air and cafe society, I was struck by some of the advertising for amongst other things, Toblerone (invented in Bern a hundred years ago) and for Mont Blanc pens.  With my newly polished French, I was reading an ad that countered the digital age of PC’s, mobile telephone texting and PDA’s with the idea that the tradition of actually holding a pen in your hand had far greater potential for pleasure when writing than the now commonplace typing.

Looking around at the Swiss Alps, while taking in Lake Geneva there is no excuse for not wishing to wax lyrical.  At times like this I wish I was a creative rather than a commercial writer but then I wouldn’t be able to afford one of those Mont Blanc stylos unless of course I was commercially successful as a creative - unlikely in my opinion.  Certainly Mont Blanc looks to me to be rather mundane as mountains go - it certainly does not inspire awe and majesty but it is a focus for artists and creativity aside from being the highest mountain in Europe.

One of my Swiss acquaintances worked with a Danish artist, Marco Evaristti who last year draped a huge, red flag across the mountain with “Pink State” embroidered on it.  The apparent aim was to highlight environmental concerns but the Swiss police decided their concern was what to charge him with when they arrested him for the stunt.  More recently, a group of obviously very friendly yodellers constructed a hottub at the summit and had a communal dip - the view must have been fantastic for a variety of reasons.

I’m here on a work assignment so there is something serious to my presence, but that does not mean you cannot soak in what any place has to offer.  Picking up ideas for profitable writing commissions does not mean hours of Google based research when you are prepared to take some time to listen to what the locals have to say over a coffee or a beer.  Socialising is one of my greatest pleasures but it is also a very profitable mine if you can incorporate your pleasure into your work.

Unfortunately, I am unable to afford one of those Mont Blanc pens, at least not the one I would like, so I’ll do without.  I’m also put off from making a purchasing decision because my assignment for today in this beautiful, scenic country is nothing to do with the breathtaking landscape, heady culture and life that is bubbling around but with the rather genital sounding, pearly penile papules and what’s the lowdown.  It seems almost sacriligous to have to do this here but that is a price you pay for working for American clients. 

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Sunday has arrived but my oil delivery did not which means I have a smokey coal fire going but can’t get any heat out of it.  Still, as a northerner esconced in the balmy south, I don’t feel the cold so much and in any event I can always throw another dog on the fire if I get desperate. 

I spent the last few days soaking up Switzerland and France while dealing with some personal affairs but at least hotels understand that their guests do need an internet connection so I have been able to maintain my output for the most part.  This job really does allow you to work on the move provided you can get that all important internet connection to download assignments and email them back once complete.  Have laptop, will work is the motto.

The week ahead is looking fairly busy with an eBook that needs to be completed for Tuesday for an American client.  The joys of researching about real estate and how to avoid foreclosure given the existing US recession which has particularly hit the middle class homeowners.  This makes a nice change from bashing out thousands of words each day on sedation dentistry which has become something of a yawn.  Wednesday I expect to be travelling and won’t get much done, but I do have to complete a technical document dealing with insurance regulation and th new European Union directive that is being promulgated at the moment.  By the time I’ve finished that I think I’ll be ready for a weekend of sedation whether it is at the dentist or not.

It looks like I’ll be heading back to Switzerland on Wednesday as well which is fine by me as the food is great though the weather distinctly chilly.  Not quite having a jet set lifestyle s becoming wearing.  I have the aggravation of the travelling and getting put up in a decent hotel, but I am a homebody and miss my own space and especially my family.  Still, the work I have set out to attract is filtering in and my rate has been maintained, if not improved upon.  As it is the end of a month (or at least it was yesterday) I am busy with sorting my invoices out and sending them off which is always a nice feeling when you have had a busy month.  Once that chore is out of the way, I think it will be time to give the keyboard a rest and enjoy what remains of the day not least because I have one of those rare instances of no kids running riot around the place - thank you Mothers Day!

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Writing is my preferred medium - I have a face for radio and a voice for writing so I’m playing the hand that God has dealt me.

Dennis Gray is a friend of mine in California who works as an IT professional but his real passion is in communicating his experiences as a father. He was confronted, as many of us are, with the actual fecal reality of a newborn - a bubbling, gurgle of joy that requires a full scale, chemical emergency team in HazMat gear to deal with on occasion. When my firstborn arrived, my feelings flew to how it would be cheaper to slap £20 notes to his bum instead of disposable nappies - I mistakenly trooped off to Costco and bought a giant size, warehouse box of nappies only to be told by mum that he was going to outgrow them before we got a quarter of the way through the box.

Dennis, being a less economically minded sort of chap, focused on how useful babywipes are and his blog, which turned into a global podcast, was born - 101 Uses for Babywipes

What struck me about Dennis and how he got his “break”, is that he started off from humble blogging. Writing about his experiences as a new father with his son, Evan. Note that - writing - on a blog.

Now Dennis has a podcast as his expertise has evolved with using the media technology that is available to all of us with an internet connection. More than that, Dennis’ show regularly attracts a worldwide audience of in excess 80,000. That’s right - more than 80,000 people tune in to his podcasts and blog to hear about his latest experiences and what other uses he has found for babywipes. The show and blog have altered direction to take into account other parenting issues from international child abduction to premature birth.

80,000 is more than the circulation of most UK provincial and town newspapers.

No staff, no budget, no training - and an 80,000 following across the US, Europe, Asia and elsewhere.

So with this following, Dennis has found a new career calling that funds a neat lifestyle? Actually, no - as he put it in a recent newspaper interview, the podcast and blog attract enough sponsors to keep the car on the drive but not make the house payments. Needless to say, Dennis is one of many people I have come across who have found a niche and a means to express themselves to the benefit of all of us.

It just takes a modicum of courage to put pen to paper and you never know what the ride will be that results.

Way to go Dennis!

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“You don’t jump … you step, like walking off the pavement when you cross the road.

It’s noisy but you don’t hear anything as you are concentrating on what you are going to do.

Smell is the sense that is heightened the most when you are scared and can’t see anything and your ears won’t work. It stinks of piss and puke with a waft of pure freshness coming at you in insufficient quantity to clear your gut from being scared and taking away the metal taste in your mouth.

Now it’s your turn with the rear-front shuffle taking you to the black hole while your arms are aching with holding onto the weight and I want to throw up but I didn’t eat anything on purpose.

It’s pointless looking up because the cloud blanks out the stars you otherwise would expect to not see, a double negative on a good night that tells you it’s open.

Now your ears tell you what’s happening. Shouts from others that have gone before and are coming after.

Fumbling around with D-rings that pose no challenge to someone who has spent a brief life unhooking a rear fastening bra, one-handed when inebriated with a nice pair waiting for your attention.

A firm tug, gentle oscillation and then the wait for the sound that tells you Mother Earth is claiming you and she is a hard mistress.

“Fear - Relief - Panic” but I prefer “Every landing you can walk away from is good one.”

It’s taken several hours of being thrown around to get here but less than sixty seconds to get back where God intended - walking on the ground and giving it the “Big I Am” with colleagues.

Then there is the awful dawning realisation that the nearest pub is seven thousand miles away and jumping in the dark is not the scariest thing in your life.”

Twenty years ago I would not have been able to write this.

If you read this far, you know how far I have come.

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This one is coming out of left field as Michael would say.  I have received the absolutely strangest commission in my fledgling career; I’ve been asked to go to “parties” held at private homes up and down the country and contribute to a series of articles.

Nothing strange about that, actually sounds pretty neat when you come to think about it, going to parties, having some fun, do a little dance, make a little love and get down tonite!

Chuckling to myself as this life is far more interesting than any fiction - the commission is for reviews of swingers parties and the people that frequent them!

Now this is not pornography which is a big ”No, No!” with me, it is a commission whose intent is to actually find something out about the people involved, the organisers and participants in the “lifestyle”. 

Who are we to judge what consenting adults get up to in the privacy of someone else’s home?

I’m a little taken aback with the request, and I have accepted it because of the voyeuristic intrigue that it has stirred as this is something way beyond my personal experience, but there is also a genuine interest.  Why would someone want to see their partner having sex with someone else?  What is it that people find so gratifying or fulfilling about having some nookie outside of the traditional, exclusive relationship model?

I have been handed some basic research that has already been conducted, and indeed have spoken with one party organiser on the telephone.  Both he and his wife seemed perfectly normal and quite open about what they get up to, to them it is simply how they are. 

I suppose this is one instance where professional detachment may be stretched and objectivity tested, or maybe not, I’ll simply have to find out for myself. 

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