I have just handed my baby to a stranger, given her one last forlorn wave, and driven away in my car. On the drive, my body heaves with deep, racking sobs as though she were lost to me forever. I am, in fact, going back to fetch her at 5pm. And the stranger is...
Of course I’ve got a blog
And I’m going to use it.
What kind of writer doesn’t have a blog? But my blog is definitely my safe space where I write about literally anything. It’s lacking, shall we say, “structure”. I reason that everything else I write is heavily structured, so I get a free pass with the blog to blather on about anything I like. Leaving London for Devon in my early 30s, the thrills and fears of marriage, the second Sex and the City film (hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve watched it. Watch it, then knock it).
I really do like to keep myself guessing with my chosen blog fodder. Don’t try to make sense of it, just read it and tell me I’m funny.