My apology for posting this a day late. Remember last week, when I said I’d finished my Young Adult novel? Well, late in the week I had a bit of a brainstorm, which made me realise I hadn’t finished it. I had to contact my readers to tell them to stop reading, and then madly add what I needed to add, so I could send them the adjusted version asap. Readers are wonderful, understanding people who are kindness personified. (I hope that’s sufficient sucking up?) Therefore instead of writing my blog yesterday, I was madly finishing (again) my novel. I’m much happier with it now and I’ve learned a valuable lesson: don’t be hasty. (It’ll be interesting to see how long I remember that.) The up side is I’ve got a much better story. The down side is I’ve forgotten what I was going to blog about!

It could have been about world events. I tell ya, after watching on the telly all the carryings on in Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, and Libya I am praising the Lord and doing the happy dance that I live in a democratic society. If we don’t like the way the country’s being run, we vote the ruling mob out. If we’ve made a huge mistake and the other lot are even worse, we know that in about 3 years time we get to do it all again. The people in charge know they need to keep the general population reasonably happy or they’ll lose their jobs. It’s always a dangerous thing to give too much power to one person for too long.

I might have intended to ruminate on life and the challenges it keeps throwing up: friends with cancer; the nuisance of living with a decrepit back and arthritis; growing older in a youth-oriented society; the increase of intolerance and bigotry in a so-called ‘enlightened’ society; the difficulties facing writers and other creative people in a world dominated by bean-counters whose only concern is the almighty dollar…

Or perhaps it was something as simple as singing the praises of Mr Neighbour (the husband of Mrs Neighbour, who read my short story and told me I was sick). Rex the Wonder Dog had committed a number of indiscreet acts on my family room carpet, which left yellow stains and a strong odour of eux-de-woof. Mr Neighbour brought his whizz-bang carpet shampooer and gallantly removed said stains. The man’s a champion. He didn’t want anything for it; he just wanted to help.

Take your pick out of any of the above, or even have the lot. I don’t care. I’m feeling generous. And, best of all, I’ve filled the page. That’s me for another week. Yippee!