I don’t know about any of you who may or may not have a blog of your own, but vast quantities of The Mottled Macaroon is in draft form and posted in retrospect.
Generally my life is a fabulous mess swirling round on itself like microwave porridge. And despite this admittedly being a bottomless pit for blogging material, as my porridge swirls so fast these days (leaving me clutching onto the bowl for grim death) I tend to post 17 months after an event actually occurs. Meaning, I miss out on posting about a LOT of stuff.
For example – I was in Paris during the 2015 attacks due to being there for a romantic 30th birthday mini break the same weekend. Did I ever blog about it? No.
I also had an incident with the Japanese ambassador, bumped into Bill Nye, got a new job, had a root canal at a holistic hypnotherapy clinic, almost broke my ankle, accidentally flashed my knickers at Chris Eubank, FINALLY visited Harry Potter world, missed out on my chance to be a bridesmaid due to plague, went kayaking in what I later discovered to be shark infested waters – and briefly ran away to Canada … So, I’ve been busy okay?
Point is – When I’m snuggled under the duvet at the weekend with a big mug of earl grey I do feel a bit of a failure. Because my laptop is silently judging me from my desk as I haven’t posted anything in ages and obviously this makes me a terrible person.
Not that I don’t make the effort of course. I squirrel away posts and work on them each week, but then that damned porridge starts swirling again and I have to once more abandon my secret life as a bohemian writer to participate in very adult and mundane things. Like everyday life. And work.
Which is highly depressing.
…But then I had a Eureka moment while sipping on some particularly delicious M&S prosecco in the bath.
Basically – you are probably going to see a lot of throwback Thursday-esque ‘storytime’ posts in the future, because that’s what life for me is like at the moment.
One gigantic storytime.
But at least you won’t miss out on any of my weird adventures – right?