There are all kinds of excuses I make for failing to do stuff. For example, today I considered not switching on the iron because of the hot weather, and I’m not talking about household ironing, just a bit of pressing for sewing. In spite of all kinds of major events (Godiva Festival, completing B’s poorly quilt, visit to my Uni to be, visit to Nina’s Uni to be, Nina’s birthday, P’s excellent degree results, and yesterday a lovely outdoor party with new frock and lavender satin shoes) I haven’t been on Blogger. This might usually mean exceptionally low mood, computer drunk on tea again, or plain old creative funk. Not a bit of it.
The excuse? I have a notepad. Not a fancy Apple Notepad that people buy to show off to strangers on the train. A small hard-backed ruled notepad, like the Red and Black ones I use for big writing, only of a size and weight that I bother to carry around. Genius. I’ve written loads of bits of bobs that would have been lost. Trouble is, there are only so many words in me and once they’re spent, that’s my lot. This has parallels with other areas of life, for sure... I mean in general, not in my case, I mean, I’m a girl anyway so it doesn’t apply. Oh. Tell me truthfully, did you prefer it when I wrote about quilting?
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