Tomorrow, assuming I don't fall off my ego, bike or high heels, should see the posting of part 1250 and we can then have a whole pile of new statistics from PS, about how many million words and so on, which I find fascinating if a little daunting.

I've thought about how I'd feel about starting from scratch either with the archive collections or via the greasy pole of the full postings. Then I remembered how I felt when I started reading Tuck, in the days when Ellen posted occasionally. I had about a hundred episodes to read and felt quite gratified that there were always some more there - until one day I caught up and felt a little bereft.

I have read all the Bike episodes a couple of times and didn't die, so it must be less boring than I thought. In fact one or two were quite good and I'd forgotten some of the meanders that have happened, so I read with interest almost forgetting I'd actually written it, and it certainly drew me in, made me smile and occasionally moistened up an eyeball.

They say we write for ourselves, maybe we do but I like to think I also give pleasure to a core of readers who follow some of my stories. For those who are surprised that this silly tale has continued beyond 1.5 million words spare a thought for me, I am astonished that I'm still churning it out with almost as much ease as I started it. One day the characters will stop performing for me, but until then I'll keep reporting their antics as I see them unfold in my head. I hope some of you will keep reading.

Thanks as always to the long suffering Erin and her team of pixies, and to my loyal band of readers who inspire me to continue boring the rest of them to tears.

Angharad.