When there are exciting things to write about, I don’t have time. When there is time, I don’t have much to write about. It’s quite a dilemma!
My brother, who has recently started a daily journal, has found this too. The other morning, he was sitting in bed and trying to scribble down everything that had happened the day before, which had been too busy for him to journal. I often have to catch up like that.
Many great stories or ideas come from the busiest parts of life. It pains me to experience so many stories, people, comments, sights, and events, and not be able to capture them on paper. A non-writer might encourage me to ‘live in the moment’, rather than trying to write it all down, but that doesn’t consider the fact that, for me, writing plays a huge part Continue reading
I could never handle the summer, or the school holidays in general, particularly in my teen years. The alluring break from work is dangled in front of you – six weeks that you look forward to for most of the year, during which there are fewer things that you must do. Mum used to smirk when I said the words, ‘I can’t wait for summer.’ She knew… Continue reading
Mum was going to be 40. Such a big number. It seemed strange to me that she could be that old, because she had been in her 30s for as long as I could remember. It was deeply significant.
I remember clearly one day when I was 13. Mum was parking the car at Morrisons for our weekly shop, and I always went with her – I may have bought a whole can of Pringles to eat in one evening, or a nail varnish, or both. Or perhaps I was in my rice pudding phase!
We were discussing plans for Mum’s special birthday, thinking about what it all meant, Continue reading