Dispatched into a void

I often have odd thoughts, or notice interesting things, or overhear scraps of conversation, or receive suggestions for books to read, programmes to listen to, places to go, and I make little jottings on my phone. I’ve tried having a notebook or diary, but that doesn’t really work – perhaps its the sight of my own illegible handwriting – or the fact that it is illegible, or I lose or mislay the notebook, and other reasons that keeping a jotter doesn’t work for me. I have a freind who always had a journal, in which she would write things – and as an artist she would also sketch, and doodle what inspired her. Her notebook was a work of art, and when i admired it she pulled out several others which she had used, filled and kept over the years. Honestly, with a little tidying up, they could have been published as inspirational what-nots. My notebooks were nothing like that.

A while ago, i started noting things down on my phone – these days phones go everywhere with you (well, mine does) and fingers crossed I haven’t seriously lost it, left it behind, misplaced. That actually is a fib, because I have from time to time lost it, left it, misplaced it – but only in a very minor sense, that it’s quickly back in my possession. (This is unlike my e-reader which has been left in various places, sometimes miles away which has involved a journey back to collect it, or kind people posting it to me) Now my e-reader has a noticeable pale blue cover with a Japanese design on it, and so far, touch wood, it is still with me.

Using my phone to note things down has worked really well and from time to time, I’ve shared my little lists and commented and explained them. This was what i was going to do today except somehow I pressed the wrong thing and a collection of funny place names, possible names for characters, observations, descriptions, thoughts and dreams have vanished. They have disappeared, been wiped, dispatched into a void which is extraordinarily annoying because included in my ramblings were plans for what I was going to write for the next writing group meeting which I’d recorded, ready to write.

Oh well, back to the drawing board, or in my case the page to get my ideas together for a piece about Apeth Blunt. Who? S/He’s the writing prompt for the next get together, on Wednesday. I’m sure I’ll think of something… I hope…

Now if I had a Tardis and could travel back in time, say about thirty-five minutes…