Some days l feel there is just more to write, l was thinking this yesterday looking at my five straight days of publishing under the new 3 days only schedule and wondering, mm, where did it start and when does it end mate? I guess it’s because some days have more week, and some weeks have more day in them. As l said to Renard yesterday and he too the same, l write daily anyway. I am in this blog every day for one reason or another – be this tweaking [fast becoming a past time or is it passtime or maybe even pastime? I think it’s the latter actually – pastime. Good question, it means the same anyway as in a way to spend time. Writing, commenting and reading.
I was saying to Ashley only yesterday also that l told myself to stop being a twit – the answers are simpler, time now works for me and doesn’t control me anymore. I have increased my efficiency – l am getting more done every day and although l had thought of running the two blogs [still happening] and only writing 4 days a week on the business blog [still happening] and only 3 days on the personal blog [currently NOT happening] it doesn’t matter with the latter because it’s my personal blog. I can probably manage a blog post daily and if not daily then most assuredly more than three times a week.
Enter the Stop Being A Twit Matier Syndrome – you write daily, whether they are published or not, you are always writing, some simply get published and transfer to ‘private’, some were being passworded so as to not break the cycle of three day scheduling only. Twit!
Just write as you want, some days there will be three days others there will be five and maybe others still there will be seven – it is what it is, when you have something to say, what’s the point of waiting x number of days to say it? Say it now, say it in the here and now rather than the then and there.
I have a new series starting soon called Musings of a Boring Ol’ F…as to what the F represents is up to the reader, my name isn’t Tucker or Art but the F might be similar to those or maybe just Ogey! I have been referred to recently as a Tucker and an Art and a Ogey too – so l guess it’s whatever hat is fitted on that day with a loud expletive! This post isn’t a F post, it’s a A.S.O.L post [A Slice of Life – another new series], but l feel the F posts are nearing also.
I was woken this morning at 06.45, by a loud pop outside the bedroom window and as l lay there, wondering what the bloody hell it was, l could hear the rains, the hard rains pelting and belting on the glass … bloody joys, another WET day l thought … at that point, l was a bit of a Grumpy ol F.
My alarm is set for 07.30, and whether l swing my achy legs out at that time on a Tuesday morning or not is irrelevant, because they eventually swing out at some point, but unless l am specifically getting up with a purpose like say on a Wednesday morning when it’s reserve day … my legs tend to stay where they are on a wet rainy miserable popping Tuesday … although, certain body parts informed me that maybe l should take a small visit in order to not have wet bed linens!
No, worry not, l have not wet the bed in many years and not like that, although the time of having any kind of wet patch might not be around for anytime soon either, but the last time l wet the bed, was the first time and the very last time when l was five. I remember that event clearly, because my father beat 100 barrels of crap out of me anyway and l couldn’t lay down properly for a good few day and spent most of that time asleep laying on my stomach. I never wet the bed ever again, and it certainly wasn’t going to happen 53 years later either!!
But what the hell made that damn pop l asked myself? Had a bomb gone off? Why was there so much bloody traffic on the road at 06.47am on a wet Tuesday morning?? Maybe l was being a grumpy! I looked out the window in the gloom, the wet gloom of an English morning, when autumn is just moving in and at 06.48am it’s no longer that beautiful summer light that springs through the day …. l have very heavy curtains on my windows anyway, the crack at the top of the window as in that little gap between curtain pole and ceiling showed that hazy blueish light as opposed to as little as four weeks ago when it was a crack of brightly lit hope and promise!
I pulled the curtains back and looked out into the rains and the dawny gloom and looked for the culprit and found it. Tuesday in Sandwich is bin day, and today is recycle day – so plastics, glass and paper must be out there for the so called early morning rubbish collections .. except that isn’t true .. they don’t turn up until well past midday, but the instruction is our rubbish must be out in the morning ……. just in case.
The culprit was across the road, flattened by all the damn early traffic no doubt, a rather sad and forlorn looking squashed plastic milk carton lay in the gutter just outside Terry’s house, a quick glasses on glance confirmed it wasn’t one of my milk cartons … meaning l didn’t have to run downstairs in my shorties and quickly scoop up the offending item and sling it back in my bin and run like the devil back into the house unseen without a splash of the watery stuff on me. I did wonder if perhaps l could zig zag fast enough and would l even get wet? Could l avoid all the rain drops as was suggested from my childhood??
Didn’t find out, because at 06.59am l got back into bed and opted for a light snooze, now contented that the loud offending popping sound posed no immediate danger to me or my sleep. As l settled down, my bladder hinted that l best get up before l got too comfortable, otherwise there could be trouble ….