Back to normality.
Yes, the big birthday (50th), and the week of indulgence that followed it are now nothing but a distant, shining memory. It’s back to behaving (apparently behaving badly doesn’t count).
It’s back to trying to be somewhat healthy.
Wednesday 21 August 2024
As A Fiddle
Hello, dear reader!
Yes, the big birthday (50th), and the week of indulgence that followed it are now nothing but a distant, shining memory. It’s back to behaving (apparently behaving badly doesn’t count).
It’s back to trying to be somewhat healthy.
Yes, the big birthday (50th), and the week of indulgence that followed it are now nothing but a distant, shining memory. It’s back to behaving (apparently behaving badly doesn’t count).
It’s back to trying to be somewhat healthy.
Wednesday 14 August 2024
The Last Chance Saloon
Hello, dear reader!
And welcome to a brand new era!
Yes, after last week’s outpouring of frustration and indignant, impotent rage and sorrow, it’s time to turn a new page. It’s time to draw a line in the sand and, starting here and now, to concentrate on all that’s good in life.
And what better time than the start of a brand new decade?
No, don’t worry, you haven’t fallen asleep and lost six years. The decade I’m talking about is of the personal nature. You see, last Saturday saw me turn the grand old age of fifty.
And welcome to a brand new era!
Yes, after last week’s outpouring of frustration and indignant, impotent rage and sorrow, it’s time to turn a new page. It’s time to draw a line in the sand and, starting here and now, to concentrate on all that’s good in life.
And what better time than the start of a brand new decade?
No, don’t worry, you haven’t fallen asleep and lost six years. The decade I’m talking about is of the personal nature. You see, last Saturday saw me turn the grand old age of fifty.
Wednesday 7 August 2024
Uncivil Unrest
Hello, dear reader!
Well, this is a strange feeling.
It is not unknown for me to sit down and start writing this humble blog with a certain lack of inspiration. Life, as wonderfully complex as it is, isn’t always what I would class as interesting around these parts (by which I mean the specific parts encompassed by this house’s four walls). I’ve also, occasionally, found myself bereft of the energy and concentration levels to put virtual pen to virtual paper, mainly thanks to the Multiple Sclerosis happily eating away at my brain.
Never, though, have I sat down to write with such a feeling of trepidation and reluctance. Never have I dithered and delayed so much. Never have I felt so ill at ease at the prospect of my own words.
Today, however, I've done just about everything I can to avoid making a start. I’ve ensconced myself in social media, read a bit, done a crossword, and watched The Olympics. And all to delay the inevitable, Because today I know what I want, what I have to, write about. Today there’s only one game in town, and that’s the riots.
Well, this is a strange feeling.
It is not unknown for me to sit down and start writing this humble blog with a certain lack of inspiration. Life, as wonderfully complex as it is, isn’t always what I would class as interesting around these parts (by which I mean the specific parts encompassed by this house’s four walls). I’ve also, occasionally, found myself bereft of the energy and concentration levels to put virtual pen to virtual paper, mainly thanks to the Multiple Sclerosis happily eating away at my brain.
Never, though, have I sat down to write with such a feeling of trepidation and reluctance. Never have I dithered and delayed so much. Never have I felt so ill at ease at the prospect of my own words.
Today, however, I've done just about everything I can to avoid making a start. I’ve ensconced myself in social media, read a bit, done a crossword, and watched The Olympics. And all to delay the inevitable, Because today I know what I want, what I have to, write about. Today there’s only one game in town, and that’s the riots.
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