My birthday last week.  Ian and Irene gave me a lovely leather-bound notebook.  It was Irene who was the catalyst behind my novel, although she had actually suggested a diary.

I have written in the book already – it was calling out to me!  It isn’t going to be a diary exactly – more a journal: a mixture of memories, day-to-day life, my feelings and my opinions.  Perhaps a sort of aide-memoir as well as I find my powers of recall are limited.  Most of the stuff will not be the sort other people are interested in.  Let’s be honest reading about the common man’s (or woman’s) daily drudge isn’t often very inspiring – raining today – went to work – had chicken for tea etc. etc. 

Writing is now becoming a compulsion.  Whenever I have a spare moment – and sometimes when I don’t – I write.  Other things, like housework, are being neglected.  I am not sure where this has come from.  It’s like I have opened a tap in my brain and I can’t turn it off. 

It’s fair to say I have an obsession.

Right  – off to my other blog then!

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