That’s it. I can’t let another day go by without writing something, because if I leave it any longer I will never, ever, ever, NEVER write another sentence again. Like running, or cycling, or playing the clarinet, the longer you leave your activity in a dark cupboard, the harder it is to start again. It is incredibly painful when you go back to it. Your muscles, whether they be thighs or lips, have withered away to diddley-squit and they scream out for mercy when you ask them to start functioning again. I recently started running again. Ow. Ow. Ow. My clarinet is still waiting for me in the repair shop as I know how excruciating it will be when I finally try to blow down its nozzle. My lips will feel like I have been smashed in the face by someone big who hates me. Well, writing my blog follows the same Law of Inactivity. As I write this I am in physical pain. My brain hurts, my eyes sting, my fingers ache. Which is why I am forcing myself to write this tonight, before it’s just too late and I have to close down my blog and give myself 77 lashes of the whip for yet again giving something up before I’d barely got started. Bare with me, please. If I can just get through this first week of writing tosh and squidge, things might get better.
The problem is not that I have a lack of subjects to write about. I have tons, swirling about in my head as I fall into bed at night, making me feel queasily guilty for not having put them down on paper, erm, screen. It’s just that by the time the kids are in bed, L’Homme and I have eaten something, cleared it away, argued about something so ridiculously unimportant that I can never remember what it was the next morning, fed the dog, written a couple of Post-Its telling me what to do the next morning and stuck them on the toaster, the kettle and the butter dish so I can’t miss them, I am absolutely shattered. Tonight I am absolutely shattered too, but here I am, forcing myself to type, sitting on the most uncomfortable chair in the world (made out of bits of barrel – don’t ask) so that I don’t fall asleep on the keyboard. This means I can’t write about all the things I want to write about as they’re all too bloody long. We’re talking about 2000 words minimum and my brain will implode if I attempt that in my current state of exhaustion. What I need is a snippet. A short thing, maybe with a photo. A light thing. Something to be nibbled. Not a five course meal of an article with Yorkshire puddings on the side. Just a snack. Some bacon fries or half a banana.
So here it is : my Bonsai tree has decided to become a real tree. A proper big one. It has sprouted two huge branches which are threatening to overbalance the rest of its puny being. Plus, the two huge branches look far healthier, happier and greener than the bonsai bits. Which makes me think that my bonsai tree has finally found its true nature. It is coming out. In fine style. I salute it, water it and wish it well with its new identity. I also wonder whether this is quite normal and due to me not having a clue as to how to trim a bonsai tree. Maybe some of you could enlighten me. I could also just google ‘bonsai tree growing big branches’ but I don’t have the energy or the patience to wade through the zillions of pages and forums on the subject. I have just accepted that my bonsai tree is fed up with the way it has presented itself to the world for the past three years and fancies a change. It has, in effect, taken the bindings off its tiny, crushed feet and spread its toes. Spread its wings. Hello Big Bonsai.
There, that’s it. Here’s a photo too. I shall be back tomorrow.