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 |   A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| What Did You Say? I am in constant muttered conversation with an imaginary audience. If I had a part in a play, its name would be Aside. |
| On the Tip of my Tongue Have you ever had one of those times when everything you read or watch has massive inspiration for you? You enter a period where the whole environment seems loaded with impulse to get you writing and you desperately want to get busy because you know that what’s inside you is so ready that it will just spill out on the page and be brilliant. An interview with someone you admire has produced certain things that you’ve always thought but now frames it so clearly in your understanding that you have to include it in something that you write, or a flash of insight gives you a perspective that is so different you must produce a vehicle for it right now while it’s still hot. And then you reach for something to hang it all on, to contain the wonderful feeling that threatens to be completely fleeting, and you realise you haven’t got a story to accommodate it. Just something simple and unchallenging, but you’re left with nothing. You try to construct something, a basic framework that can run with all you want to say, but it won’t come. Everything dissolves into banality and you’re left in a corner with grinding frustration and urge to create but no means to do so. You’ve been there? Welcome to my world. Word count: 218 |
| An Apology I decided that the blog was the best place to announce my cringing apology for my absence over the last four days. The blog has not had a post for a while and, if people miss my apology because they don’t read my blog, that seems fair retribution to me. My craven excuse for absence is that I have been ill. Not quite at death’s door but it felt like it for a while. Like most things, it could be described as a bad cold or the flu, but I blame covid and its annoying habit of returning every now and again to annoy. Anyway, the gist is that, when I feel like that, writing is beyond me. It’s hard to concentrate the mind when your body is leaking fluids at every orifice (love that word) and your belly is yelling in pain. I gave up without a fight and slept whenever I could. So there you have it and now you know how easily WDC is abandoned by me when in the depths of debilitating illness. No sympathies required - I am recovered (mainly) now and have already written a poem of sorts for Express It In Eight this morning. And this little piece counts too, I guess. Word count: 206 |
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