I’m afraid that today’s post is
brought to you courtesy of Lemsip*.
I’ve just
been through one of those patches where real life has intruded - very happily I'm pleased to say - with the
kind of big
interruption to which one can only give in whole-heartedly.
Our distraction came in the shape of a fine family wedding down in London here at Southwark Register office, with party-times
and meetings-up and meals here and there along the way: a truly delightful
week away.
Then we drove home.
Then we drove home.
I’d imagined, somehow, that now the celebrations and visits were
over, I’d slip back into the WIP with no trouble.
For a
start, there would be no more urgent phone calls, no more shopping, no more
checking about clothes or shoes or hats, no more gathering of this and that,
including a now-lost but useful umbrella - all of which I decided to enjoy hugely.
I gave in
to it all because I knew that when we were home, writing would resume. I
was also very sure that while I was hurrying around, a wise idea for this blog-post
would have arrived.
It
didn’t. The infamous London Bug Soup got to me among my travels. I'm convinced that a foul miasma breeds in the London Underground, seeping out of the vents, like an
invisible version of The Bakerloo Flea, and attacking all those not yet hardened to the London air. I arrived
home, staggered into bed, and that’s been that.
In my
muddled head, I’m imagining I could be filling this post with all sorts of
stuff: those Georgian terraces of Peckham and Camberwell; the dangers of satnav
and the tricksy congestion charge; witnessing a nasty traffic accident while my
arms were heaped with wedding clothes; staring at the sunlit Thames from
Waterloo Bridge, loving what remains of the skyline and cursing some architects
and companies . . .
Or
there’s the not-forgotten general crossness: I could be ranting about the BBC
figures on the decline of public libraries, which give only part of the
picture, as further cuts are already being stacked up for implementation in
2017. You ain’t seen nothing yet! And
still – today - a Minister who knows what's been done makes statements about the importance of Librarians.
Or I could rage about that Year 6 Grammar test . . .
Or I could
be positive, and praise two children’s books I’ve just read: MY BROTHER IS A
SUPERHERO by David Solomon and ELECTRIGIRL by Jo Cotterill, partly because I
was so glad to find books set in the UK. Might have to save those for my next Awfully Big Review.
I could, I
could, but right now I really can’t. Tomorrow I’ll be back, spinning the
plates, getting it all together again. Not now.
Apologies, all - and without even a joke to offer. Have a great April!
Exit writer,
pursued by her own sore head.
*Other medications and Scottish distillations
are available.
Penny
Dolan
7 comments:
Love this, Penny. Considering you had no ideas for a post, you've written a pretty good one!
Beautiful pictures too.
Elegantly done - now, back to bed with you. (And don't be too quick to get back to the plate spinning either - you'll only crack them and yourself!)
What Joan and Emma said. - Also, I'm glad the Scottish medicine is available. I prescribe it hot, with honey.
Glad, too, you enjoyed the wedding before the London bugs got you. The writing will come back. An enforced rest - once the worst of the bug has passed - may even help it!
Look after yourself, Penny, and don't worry about the WIP! (And glad the wedding went off well.)
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