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Oh the hideous irony. It’s been years since I’ve written anything – for a number of purely logistical reasons, rearranging the furniture of my life, moving house, being divorced, blah blah blah. Then 2020 happened. Lockdown. Gardening happened, which was WONDERFUL. Then another lockdown. Then, just before the Christmas lockdown, I trapped a nerve in my hip. AGONY. And I couldn’t go anywhere, or do much of anything, for weeks. Hell. Amitriptyline has been an absolute godsend.

And in the meantime, I have felt my voice, my will to speak, slipping away. I barely say a word these days – except to my daughter. But she’s busy with her world online, both school and social. I talk to no one, not even myself – and I was always, before, one of those suspicious people forever chattering away whilst pottering along, alone. Except then I didn’t feel particularly lonely, because I wasn’t alone; I wasn’t exactly talking to myself, but rather to my idea of a particular person – any person at all. The idea of going back to work, of being with other people, talking, the idea of another person actually listening to what I might say, is at once electrifying, and horrifying. I’ve forgotten how to do it (apparently I’ve forgotten how to write too, can you tell?!). How DO you make conversation? Is it like knitting? (Oh god, I thought I’d have a go at learning to knit so as to actually make something useful – I can already cast on, and do various stitches – and I bought this marvellous book, but when I went looking for my needles – I was given lots by my grandmother a million years ago – I found only three, and none of them the same size. My house eats things, I swear. It’s eaten my yoga kit, and god knows what else I haven’t yet thought to go looking for.) Maybe it is like knitting, with mismatched needles and an illegible pattern that neither of you can quite make sense of. I’m simply not equipped. I’m out of practise. I’m rubbish.

But wait, it gets worse. Today I literally lost my actual voice. That’s right. I have a sore throat, one side feels closed, and it hurts to swallow. Ugh.

I give up. I’m going back to bed. Tomorrow is another day. Whichever day it is.

I’m still here…

Gosh it’s been an absolute age since I last thought about writing a post. And there are lots of good reasons why that has been the case. It’s just I hadn’t realised so much time had passed. Oh, gulp.

So, here I am, taking a deep breath, mucking about with the design of this thing (procrastination much!), and starting again.

Hi.

How are you?

Are blogs still a thing, now? Sod it, even if they aren’t, I’m still going to (re)do this.

So. The reasons why I haven’t been writing AT ALL for the last nearly two years:

Separation, followed by online dating (absolute hell), followed by feeling Very Low Indeed, followed by discovering hygge (yes, I know, and it helps me) followed by preparing to move house, followed by actually moving house (the first bit always takes longer than you think), followed by settling in and loving it, and looking at the sky a lot, followed by a realisation.

I haven’t been writing. I’ve edited, a bit. A very little bit. And I’ve been having thoughts and making notes, but I haven’t been actually writing. And now it’s been so long, that sometimes I wonder if I should even try. Resurrecting this blog is a way of beginning that process. Because I feel guilty, I feel less than I think I could be. I’ve become a lurker in my own life, never mind how far I’ve pulled back on the social media thing. The world has changed so much, so fast, and the lunatics are in charge and it’s all going to shit and what can you do?

I want to not feel so hopeless (helpless is a given, while things are the way they are in the wider world, and you’d better believe I am LIVID about all of it – but I can’t live like that, burning up all the time), and then it came to me, that as my world has shrunk, as I have withdrawn, because I needed to, I have been living without passion. And it’s awful. I must reignite it. Fuel it. I must write.

Here it begins, again.

Here are some things I like, some new, some rediscovered. They help me feel a little bit better.

 

These sneakers are new, and I love them. The socks are not new, but are very purple, and, unusually for me, not stripy. But that’s okay.

 

Here is my new lipstick by NARS, Dolce Vita: a natural looking my lips but better sort of colour. Here also is my new favourite eyeliner, Charlotte Tilbury’s Colour Chameleon in Golden Quartz. I like how it makes my eyes look. (No I don’t. I bloody LOVE how it enhances my eye colour. So there.) Here also is Elderflower eye gel, from the Body Shop. This soothed my overworked and aching eyes through A’Levels, back in the last century. It smells so simple and clean and fresh, and is perfect for those enervating late nights in front of the computer screen.

 

This is why I love the eyeliner.

 

And a lovely film that I rediscovered recently: it’s romantic, and sweet, and funny and hopeful, and it has La Boheme threaded through it too. And it’s keeping me company right now.