Wednesday, 28 March 2018



It started with my two weeks away in Madeira and lack of chargers. Then, almost the minute we returned - perhaps a week later - I came down with a nasty bout of the 'flu which lasted well over a week, and I'm still just getting over that. The last time I had anything like that was before we got married, over thirty years ago. I don't tend to suffer with physical ailments, for which I'm incredibly grateful to my mother who gave me her genes. ('Give 'em back!' She says...)

     Throughout the bug I tried to and catch up with my TO DO list. That worked, sort of. Long ago I sent posts to a couple of journals/blogs who initially said: 'Great! Send us/me something!' then haven't acknowledged or thanked me, despite, after a reasonable length of time, my asking if they arrived safely, which is just plain rude and discourteous. I know I initiated that in the first place, but still... So I guess the answer there is to move on and don't send them anything else. 

     Then there're the creative blogs I've contacted who said: 'Great! Send us something!' and I still haven't. No excuses there. That's just me. I have made a list of these creative contacts, but again, they've got buried in the noise. I'm humongously disorganised. My name is Confused and Disorganised.

     Throughout this 'flu bug I decided to attempt to unsubscribe from some of my zillions of newsletters. That's worked, to a degree. I've still got a bulging inbox, but I've noticed that some of the incoming emails aren't necessarily from people I've subscribed to, so I'm busily unsubscribing from them as well. But when you get that many emails - not telling you how many (too embarrassing) - you can't possibly get through them or even read them comfortably. The minute you pause and read one, umpteen more jump in. The problem is that I grew addicted to subscribing to blogs that look even vaguely interesting. Husband threatened to unsubscribe me when I wasn't looking. Wouldn't put it past him. Lol. 😮 I promised myself that for every new blog that I prescribed to, I'd unsubscribe from at least one. That worked. Not.

     I also decided to try and delete the ridiculous number of photographs off my Android phone and upload them to my laptop. That hasn't worked either. I've got so many that my phone has come to a crunching halt in protest. My tech man, Husband, has tried to explain about Cloud and Google photos, and the delete button and my memory card that we bought to enable me to take even more photos. Anyway, he, as we speak, is struggling to delete my pics off my phone, having made copies of them on the main computer. 'Wouldn't have started from here.' As he keeps telling me. 

     Working on my epic novel, Alias Jeannie Delaney, of course, little by little. The organisation of which is a humongous undertaking as well. I wrote the timeline years ago. I listed my cowgirl  protagonist's gang - the boys, all bar one whom she knew at school. Their names, personalities, family backgrounds, the reasons they join forces with her. Printing out chapter by chapter and Husband's critiquing each one. We're on chapter fourteen, I think.

      Meanwhile - back at the ranch (sorry, that slipped out...), we're rebuilding and redecorating parts of the house. Halfway through the bathroom. Repainting, plumbing (Husband's good at that. Sorting out leaks as we speak). We demolished the wall dividing the loo from the bathroom - a 'Here's Johnnie!' moment, chose the floor covering. Part of a lovely shiny silvery speckled ceiling is up, as is part of a lovely shiny, subtly pale green marbled wall, and the radiator.  

     Simultaneously we decided to demolish the conservatory/art studio and start all over again. The conservatory is one of the main reasons we bought this house way back in 1991, plus the rather ample garden. It's lasted all these years but we had a rush of blood to the head and got all excited over the prospect of having a new one. This old one is wood and glass, with wooden flooring, all requiring annual maintenance and prone to leakage. More leaks. Was added to the back of the house during the seventies, after the house was built. Now we're going for white plastic coated metal and possibly stone flooring in a more elegant style. 

     So virtually every room is uninhabitable. I exaggerate, but that's how it felt. My brain exploded. Threw out my vast collection of magazines - art, writing and period interior magazines I was keeping with intentions of getting round to reading them. Enough! I'm been feeling terribly weary. Still, I managed to empty the conservatory in preparation for the measuring bloke to come and measure.
      But I've been feeling terribly sorry for myself and a bit low. A lack of direction. We put some of it down to post viral but I definitely need something. Husband is busy with rebuilding rooms and Accessible Boating (Narrow boat trips in Hampshire for people with mental health and mobility issues). He's suggested I drive the boats occasionally. I need to return to voluntarily work and that's ideal. Also we think because virtually every room is in a pickle because of major redecorating, I'm suffering mentally. No real space to relax. So we've got to make certain the sitting room is available. 

      And back to blogging. I've been neglecting it and need to return to it. 

     So there we are, bang up to date! Time for me to shake a leg...or thumb...

Ps: If anyone wants to say hi, that would be fab! 

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