Wednesday, 1 March 2017

For Want Of A Nail ....

Remember that old adage for want of a nail, a shoe was lost, for want of a shoe a horse was lost, for want of a horse the battle was lost - and all for the want of a horse shoe nail...?  The only reason I ask is because today my life feels a bit like that horse shoe nail.  Maybe I am just out of sorts today? But because I don't know if anyone ever reads this or really gives a damn, I will tell you, in complete honesty, that the old dark shadow depression is back for the first time in ages.  I don't know why I was born or what purpose my life holds - and I question it almost every day. Pathetic isn't it?

I wouldn't mind if I had a reason for feeling like this.  I have a lovely husband, two beautiful girls, two lovely sons-in-law and seven gorgeous grandchildren (Andrew, Harry, Olivia, Jack, Issac, Sophie and Oscar).  I also have five great-nephews (Harry, another Oscar, Joey, Bobby and Freddie) and two great-nieces ( Mila and Ivy) and another great-niece/nephew on the way.  I live in this lovely little house with its latticed windows and am getting more writing done than I have in an age.  So what is the matter with me?  I even just got back from a lovely weekend away with Steve in Weymouth AND we have our lovely joint birthday party coming up in July, with the Venue, DJ and Photographer already booked - as well as a sweet little extra which I will mention again nearer the time.  Plus the Young Writers continue to thrive and grow and I am still being asked to do talks elsewhere.

I don't think it is because I am between jobs.  At least I am getting considered for interviews now which is an improvement on a month ago.  I know I have a great deal to offer and I know the right job will turn up as and when.  In the meantime I should be making the most of these precious moments and most of the time I am.  But Why ?  Who is it for and does it really matter anyway?

When I was young I had this morbid idea that I would die before I reached the aged of 35.  Don't ask me where it came from, it was just something I accepted.  So to be getting to 60 this year is a Massive achievement and I have lived a life well-lived.

But as I wallow in this pathetic, idiotic, self-inflicted mood, the one question I keep asking myself is What's It All For?

Answer on a postcard please ...

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