There must just be hundreds of new blogs begun today. This is my first but I am a past master at the new diary. It’s the terrible temptation of the clean blank page balanced against the weight of it. The pressure of getting the words completely perfect. As you’ve probably already realised I’ve decided to resist the pressure for perfection. I find that’s best or nowt would get done.
Well another festive season is over – along with a lot of desperate present crafting and decoration making. Zeph, my son, has been collecting pinecones throughout the year and we barely made an impact on his mountain. Will devote some time soon to trying to figure out how I can convert this raw resource into possible presents for next year…hmmm. Poor friends and family.
Although this is my first blog I do spend a lot of time reading them. It’s like a permissable form of stalking (don’t be afraid!) but I am always slightly dismayed by how perfect you lovely lot are. Even when being chaotic you’re witty, urbane and ultimately successful. When you’re low and depressed you manage to be very emotionally articulate and forward looking. I think it’s like when you fill in personal details on surveys – you know – like; what newspapers do you read? How often? Hobbies? and you put what papers you’d like to think you read every day to ensure cultural awareness and the hobbies you’re pretty sure you’d enjoy if you ever got the time or cash to try them. Aspirational self editing. I’m (as you see) going to avoid that.
I started the year by cooking an amazing roast beef dinner but have already tarnished the fresh start by going to bed without washing up. Tomorrow I’ll be whipping Zeph into making Thank You cards, a task eased by the printing set he got as a gift. I’ll let you know how it goes and whether actual blood is spilt.