Saturday, 4 January 2014

Bloggers Block.

I know you're not really that interested but I've been busy dismantling my life.   A bit dramatic, you think? Hmmm..maybe that's not quite accurate. OK, in that case I've been painting.  I've been painting everything!  I've painted the kitchen, I've painted the bathroom, I've painted some picture frames and I've painted some jolly nice hearts! 

You see, I've had bloggers block for a while.  I'd sit at the blank screen of the computer...and sit...and sit...smoke a fag...sit...make a coffee...sit.  It's made me feel practically useless so instead of just staring at the blank screen I thought maybe I should get creative.  I'm pretty good at painting. Not so good at sewing. Baking makes me fat...and exercising? Well, that just makes me tired.

So yes...I've had bloggers block ( I admit it!) and I felt (and still feel) that I didn't/don't have one original thought in my head!  Not one single one! Nothing I have to say is very interesting (still isn't, and please, I'm not looking for sympathy here).  I suppose my blog is a bit like my mind.  It jumps from project to project...thought to thought with very few paths, clear ideas or where it's going and where it will all end.

I love writing about the kids, but in all honesty although they amuse me I'm not sure it's fair to inflict them on the world.  I love the dogs and they make me giggle but really...a blog about the dogs?  I'm not that self indulgent not to know when something I find funny, others don't.  I'll be like one of those mums at the school gates who turn away when they see me coming.  "Oh here comes the boring one...you know the one that always has a tale to tell...not funny!"

Can I just tell you this though? 

Ma phoned me the other day. She was crying with mirth.  Mirth I know.  Mirth is when something happens to someone else.  Mirth is merciless and can not be hidden.  I knew I would laugh but didn't know for how long.  They were in Waitrose, at the tills paying for their groceries.  Pa's become a little clumsy in older age and dropped his paper, whilst holding onto the bags, so Ma bent down to pick it up as he rummaged in his pockets for his wallet.  As he leant over to put his card in the machine he could feel his trousers slipping slowly down towards his knees.  Ma was still on the floor picking up the scattered paper but looked up to see the spectacle of my father holding onto the bags, rummaging through his pockets as the his trousers slid south.  Apparently (she said) she let out a screech of horror (which I interpreted laughing uproariously!), which attracted the attention others, not only immediately behind, but those in other aisles...who started to laugh.  I have visions of everyone pointing at my Pa...laughing.  It fills me with pain...but it doesn't stop me from giggling...just a bit!  Pa managed to hitch his trousers back up before it became a "offensive act" and scuttled out of the supermarket, with Ma trailing behind, weeping, barely able to walk.  When she stopped crying (with mirth) long enough, she called me.

Anyway, I digress.  I think I've had this conversation with myself several times over the past few years and I'm no clearer in my direction than when I first started. As it's only for me (my blog, I mean) and as I'm not trying to please anyone but me...perhaps I should carry on down this road...but if I do will the bloggers block continue?  Or has this little post broken the cycle? I hope so.  I so enjoy it here!

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