I saw a picture online of a tiny picnic table, perfect in form and ratio, just small, for squirrels.

Seeing as I was staying in a place surrounded by squirrels I went outside, found some wood and made a small table.

I expected the squirrels to come in their droves, just to hang out in front of a motion sensor camera.

Perhaps it was because I placed the thing to the top of a five foot log store, but no squirrels visited. Some small birds. But no squirrels.

I made another table and attached it to a half foot stump. This was definitely within reach - and eyesight - of squirrels.

I even put some nuts on there.

Still no squirrels.

It struck me after days of waiting for that perfect moment that the best way to ensure a squirrel would oblige with my fantasy would be to make so many tiny picnic tables that they covered the entire field.

But then, not discounting the time this would take, would it be as satisfying as seeing a squirrel choose to dine at one of my few creations?

No, it wouldn’t.

I think that’s why I take my time when creating something new. I relish that rare sight of seeing someone reading my book on a tube in London, or knowing that just 500 people on this planet chose to come to a festival my friends and I created.

In the first month my new podcast had just over 1000 listens. That’s not even close to groundbreaking, but it felt good. My podcast is the most popular podcast in the UK, if you don’t include the 10,000 other podcasts that people enjoy more than mine.

I’m never going to aim for the top of a chart but seeing as I’m not famous, don’t have an agent or a publisher or a publicist, and knowing that word of mouth only travels when the subject deserves it, the chances of someone hearing about my blog or talk or book or podcast is minimal.

Which makes a person’s choice to consume one of these things very special indeed.

That is my thrill. That’s what I work for. The satisfaction of an intimate, personal choice.

So I’ll not cover the land with tiny picnic tables. Instead, one or two (or maybe three) will be enough.

And one day, when the squirrel visits, the wait will be worth it.