Friday, 20 October 2017


Time is a bitch really, isn't it?

I complain about not having enough time but at the same time, I'm quite content to sit on my arse sometimes and do nothing.  But those sometimes, it's because I feel a little like I'm wading through treacle.  I think half the problem there is lugging this body around and the other half is that I'm just so bogged down with 'stuff'.

I said to Andy last night that I wish I could just hit pause.  There's so much I want to do, or more importantly, THINK about.  I just want thinking space.  I have lots I need to give some proper thought and attention to but I just never feel like I have a clear enough headspace to do it.  

My brain has enough crap in it, small, assorted crap, but then something bigger comes along and just pushes everything else out of my brain.  And whilst, that’s normal, it’s also really really hard to deal with, because some of that small, assorted crap is also important crap, “Various things for Guides, Woody’s lost his lunchbox, do we move house, do we move to Bromley, do I get a different job, Scarlett has no clean uniform, what are we doing for Christmas, what am I doing with Woody tomorrow as Andy’s in Blackpool, I need more catfood….”  It’s literally endless!!

*Cue Carrie Bradshaw voice*

How do we get thinking space in this busy world we live in?  Am I just overthinking it all?

Thursday, 9 March 2017

Curse and Damnit

I whine and whinge about not being the writer I want to be, or not having written the book I now see on the shelves (or books, there's lots in the Bestseller list at the minute that I think, I could've written that.

So, I do solemnly swear, that from now on, I will, I must, make a concerted effort to actually write stuff.

I can't promise the stuff I write will always be that easy to read, or even be that interesting, but I'm sure I read something once which said the key to being a successful writer or blogger is to write daily, prolifically.

I'm not yet sure whether I'll write about life, or fiction, sometimes my life feels like a work of fiction, definitely a Black Comedy.

A little bit about where we are at the minute;

  1. Broke (in every sense)
  2. Renting, for the third time.  The house is lovely but, we can't really afford it (see Item 1).  We tried to buy a house last year, but it all went awry and now we will probably never buy a house (see Item 1).
  3. Depressed, again.  Not taking an medication for it at the minute so should probably see to that, but, can't really stretch to the prescription fees (see Item 1)
  4. Carless, as it were, I have a courtesy car but the thing is a thirsty pig diesel automatic and I fucking hate it.  I can't say much about what happened, the twerp is trying to claim it was my fault (I call bullshit of the highest order) but thankfully the insurance company have agreed to repair my car.
  5. Content, which must seem unlikely given the above.  Apart from having to come to work everyday which is just dull as shit to be quite honest, there are times when I'm at home with Andy and the kids and I do feel genuinely content.  So it's not all bad.
Anyway, I'm at work, so I'd best get on.  Hopefully some of you will still read my stuff but if not, well here it is anyway.