Hullo, hullo, hullo – is there anybody out there? Yes, I’m a sad person who enjoys listening to Pink Floyd on my bedtime stereo. Though I’m not comfortably numb. Feeling very much alive now that the snow is melting, which means I can go out and meet flesh and blood speaking/singing people. Bliss. And at 61¾, do wake up thinking its good to be alive and well. Being housebound for nine days in the much- talked-about adverse British weather conditions, certainly gives you an idea of how lonely life can be for the constant housebound. My neighbour (86, I believe) rarely sets foot outside her door. She’ll sometimes stand there for a while if the sun comes out, breathing the fresh air in-between bouts of coughing. Always well-groomed and smartly dressed, always resourceful. Her Scrabble Club now come to her twice a week. You gotta admire women like that.
As for me: I am a virgin blogger. I’ve never blogged, rarely clicked on blogs. In fact, the word has just been added to my spell-check dictionary. Apparently everone’s doing it. As a writer, I’ve now been ‘nagged’ that writers must. The world has gone blog, blog, blog. What do you write about, when it’s going out there for the whole world to see?
But this month is a strange sort of silver anniversary. Twenty-five years since I decided to be a writer. If I’d known then what I know now, would I have been so optimistic? I can be proud of my achievements since then, but twenty-five years on ……? I’ve now been writing a year longer than I stayed married. That seemed a life time! This thought came to me this afternoon, whilst supping tea at Writing Buddies, now being held at Southampton’s inspiring venue –The Art House in Above Bar. Silver anniversaries merit celebration. Think I deserve a glass of wine.