Around the middle of last year, I was approached by the writer Tim Lott to see if I’d like to be a judge in the annual literary competition he organises. On the face of it, the prospect wasn’t very appealing. It’s a romantic fiction prize and who wants to read dozens of chick lit novels, particularly as there’s no fee? But Le Prince Maurice Prize does have one thing going for it. The prizegiving takes place at the Prince Maurice Hotel in Mauritius and the judges get to spend a week there — all expenses paid.
‘Can I bring my wife and four children?’ I asked.
‘Er, no. ’Fraid not,’ said Tim.
‘Count me in.’
As you can imagine, it took some doing to square this with Caroline. At a stroke, thousands of units were deducted from my brownie-point bank account and I’ve been doing most of the housework ever since.
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