Once the identity of my alter-ego, the Twitchhiker, is revealed, the very first question I am asked is generally the identical: 'Where did you get the notion from?'
I wish I had some hilarious explanation but the truth is duller than Doncaster on a wet Tuesday. Some folks are inspired by faith, other people by awesome functions of art.
For me, it was the bread aisle of Tesco in Gateshead. It was a Saturday lunchtime in January last year and my route to the fresh baguettes was blocked by a clatter of abandoned trolleys, their owners deep in conversation about Cheryl Cole or their recent holidays.
They were oblivious to other customers attempting to squeeze past. I began daydreaming, wishing I was somewhere else, somewhere hot with azure skies.
Like millions of many people, I spend far too substantially time working with Twitter, a social networking website that connects pals and strangers alike.
Some use Twitter to relay mundane messages – every single restricted to a maximum of 140 characters – about their day, even though other people share news and info as it occurs, in actual-time.
