Usually I sit down to write here and there’s something already in my mind, or if not, I look at the screen, have a little think and an idea arrives. Not today; today has been an empty head sort of day – not in general, just here. I have looked at the news, and nothing has struck a chord; I’ve looked on social media and no inspiration from somethings someone else has mentioned; I’ve looked through other things I have written, looked at my photos, thought about food, books, travels, and nothing, nothing, nothing.
My daughter was passing my door and I asked her if she had any ideas, and she mentioned several, none of which set my mind racing, except that maybe it would be a challenge to write, and try and write with enthusiasm about something . Here are her ideas:
- write about the first house/flat I ever bought. What were my first impressions when I looked round, what was the first thing I did when I moved in?
- write about other places I have lived (my own places as opposed to rented)
- write about taking the dog for a walk, a day in the life of the dog, the dog’s thoughts on a day in his life – he has written several blogs before, but none recently, maybe because like with us, his life has been somewhat dull
- write about a return to the pub, albeit sitting outside – yes, I intend to do that!
- write about five things in my room – gosh my room is full of stuff so the hard thing will be too decide which!
- write about my goldfish, Prospero and Graham
I think each of these good ideas deserves a separate post. My first home was a flat I shared with a friend; as often happens with this sort of idea, much as we liked each other, sharing a place didn’t work out. After the flat I bought a semi-detached house away from where I had previously been living and became quite isolated, and in fact lonely. It was not a happy place. My third home was the absolute opposite, a brand-new bungalow which seemed to be full of luck and good fortune. My life changed most wonderfully while I was there. My next home I inherited from my dad when he died, and from there we moved to our present lovely house which again has been a happy and lucky place.
I still take Reg the dog out each day but our walks have become somewhat circumscribed; this is not only due to the current situation (which admittedly is easing now) but due to our village being flooded with visiting locals and their dogs come here for our beach and access to countryside. Our dog is quite nervous of other people and dogs – despite his feisty blogs, so we tend to spend time in the garden and then go to the deserted Beach Lawns in town after dark.
It will come as no surprise that I have already visited the newly re-opened pub, and I am going to write about it. It was wonderful to be back, even though it was so cold siting outside!
Just casting my eye along the adjacent window sill, thinking of which five things to choose to write about, I see a pottery mug made by my sister and filled with pen, a tea mug which needs to be taken to the kitchen and washed up, a packet of scented colouring pencils, several notebooks a couple of CDs, an empty beer bottle, last year’s calendar, a candle, a jar of paperclips, a landline phone, and a petite cup and saucer. Plenty to choose from there!
My fish Prospero and Graham have rather dull lives, and Prospero is somewhat afflicted despite my best and constant attempts to care for them.