Although it is true that if I have nothing to write about, I write about it anyway, but unless you have experienced what it is like to be outside my workshop trying to shape marble whilst keeping more eyes out for the bloody things than are actually in your head, then you will not appreciate just how large they figure in my Summer working life in the country.
When I had a workshop right in the middle of town, Summer brought different distractions, and these usually came in the form of young women who were dressed for the weather. The other distraction was the almost daily ritual of celebrity-spotting.
A lot of very big names came to our yard - I stood next to Barbara Streisand as she made the ill-fated phone-call to her brokers which lost her a small fortune. She was very short, very hard and had very piercing eyes.
Gary Glitter came to my workshop with a young (but not that young) girl, and I was surprised at how tall Prince Charles is, compared to his mother. Jennifer Saunders was there as well, but not at the same time. That would have been like some mad Shell poster, with every type of wildlife there could possibly be, packed together in about one square yard of British countryside.
I think just about celebrity must have visited Bath at one time or another - it must be one of those 'must see' places to tick off your list. I mean, can you imagine someone in the public eye admitting to never having visited Paris? Unthinkable.
For this reason, Bath has always been a shallow, almost fatuous place where nothing of any real importance has ever happened. It is a smallish town which calls itself a city, and it is entirely composed of facades which bear no relation to the rooms and real lives behind them. Historically, it has always been this way and is despised by many serious people for being so.
So unlike Bristol, which is only 12 miles up the road. Bristol has a buzz to it which is kept fresh by a seemingly continuous influx of young, ambitious people, some of whom move there after they have grown up in Bath. Once they get there, you never see them again.
When I first moved here in 1971-2, it was a retirement town, packed full of genteel retirees with one foot over the threshold of the gates of death. They didn't like us young lot, and made it very clear.
Well we cleaned the place up for them - in more ways than one. Every building was black from coal-smoke, and could be bought very cheaply. I have friends who bought houses for £2000 then which are worth about £1 million now.
After a brief spell of disinterest, tourism is now the main industry here as it always has been, and the infrastructure which services it affects every aspect of life in the city.
I like the tourists - they make me feel lucky to be here, having lived in towns which empty in the Summer. Anyway, it's too late to move to Bristol now. I would like a nice little flat in central London though...