So the thing is, its like this really, well it kind of happened sort of like that, in a way it did anyway. But it was a bit different than that, and then it just sort of….stopped. Really.
In a round about way, what I’m getting at , I mean to say, the crux of the matter is, the real issue I’m trying to deal with is … difficult to phrase.
You see it all started so well, the intention that is, I really meant to do better, there’s still so much to say, its just I’m having a few problems ….. saying it.
Yes that’s right I have hit the wall. Metaphorically of course. Literally it has been horrible.
Put simply, I just cant write.
I’ve been trying, Lord knows I’ve been trying, but whatever I attempt just seems to dribble to a unsatisfactory slush about half way down the page and just stop without ever seeming to finish. If you see what I mean.
Its very frustrating. Especially as writing is usually something which gives me such pleasure and satisfaction, now it has become an uphill struggle plagued with self doubt and massive doses self criticism. Not a very helpful attitude when trying to create anything.
I blame January.
I really don’t get on with January very well. In fact I would go as far to say that it is my ‘bogey month’. Nothing ever seems to work well for me in January.
As regular readers will know I have a few emotional issues with winter anyway, but January in particular just makes me want to hibernate. This January has been nothing short of dismal, with a few brief wonderful exceptions bright enough to pull my head up from the general air of gloom.
The fun and laughter of Christmas is already a fleeting memory, the decorations already hang limp and listless, the faded sparkle seems to mock you as you turn the calender and face a whole month of gloom and dismal weather to boot.
Then when the tired decorations come down they leave your walls bare and a gaping hole where the tree stood but a few moments ago. The glittering baubles packed away for another year leaving stark bare emptiness staring back at you from every surface. Its little wonder that home improvements come so high on the agenda for so many people at this particular time of year. Suddenly the rooms that looked so warm and pleasing all year round look forlorn and neglected.
And its just been so cold. Yes, I am fully aware that I live in northern Europe and it is winter and as such it is supposed to be cold, but I really don’t think I have ever felt it is as much as I have this year. It seems to have permeated my very bones, I don’t think my feet have been anything approaching warm since early November. Even in the midst of the flu with the rest of my body burning up with fever, my fingers and toes felt like icicles. And with two bouts of illness under our belts it has seemed a very long month indeed.
But, believe it or not it hasn’t all been doom and gloom. A perfectly timed and wonderfully spirit lifting few days with my parents, setting the world to rights and planning our various schemes for the future, were enough to raise my head from the gloom for a while. In between bouts of vomiting Moo has shown her passion and talent on the ice rink, so much so that we have decided to but her some skates of her own and save her feet from the leaden ill-fitting hire skates. We are eagerly awaiting their arrival with my February visitor who is due to arrive at some point early next month. (Skate asylum provide relatively cheap goods, but do not deliver to France and as we have an impending visitation by car I thought it best to combine the two events).
Another upside to my almost total lack of literary is that my culinary experimentations have reached (and breached) new boundaries. There seems no end to the variations of biscuits that have been coming out of the oven, but I’m bored with them now and as I have totally run out of usable jars for jams and preserves I have turned my attention to cake. Banana and kiwi, lemon and ginger, chocolate and lime and an unexpected favourite of mine avocado and buttermilk loaf. (I even managed to write some of the recipies down!).
But whilst I could happily bake for days on end there is a limit to how many the two of us can, or should, actually eat. My waistline has become another victim of my writers block and all the dietary work of gastric flu has been more than undone.
But as the month drags it’s lethargic heels to the finish line I can at last feel the rejuvenating effects of the watery winter sun as it struggles to penetrate the mantle of grey that January has worn, and it hopefully this effort, combined with the ever nearing calender page turning deadline, will go some way to restoring the flow of my literal lubrication.
Hopefully it will not be long before I am back at full strength and fulfilling my promise to write.
Here’s to February.