Here we are in the study at Myrtle House once more as day slips into eve and I thought I'd share this picture of my new friend with you; her name is, appropriately enough, Joy and she is the embodiment, I hope, of an upward swing in my emotional state in comparison to the last few weeks . . . Our meeting coincided with yet more not-very-good news which was the final event in a whole series of if anything could go wrongs and after clapping eyes on her I thought rather than simply give up, it was time to maybe fight back a little!
It's been a funny old day really; one thing has lead to another and some surprisingly lovely outcomes have occurred. The day began with an unexpected text from a sweet neighbour asking me to please put her bin out as she had lost the key to the gate which protects our somewhat overgrown communal cobblestone area from the strife of everyday life. It was a little after six-thirty and I was, as is usual at this hour, a little befuddled; surely it wasn't Wednesday already? It wasn't and my apologetic neighbour conceded as much but, after discharging my bin laden duties, I decided to take the bull by the horns (sorry Joy!) and start work on the dreaded website design for the new practice . . . this went surprisingly well and a little work in progress now graces the ether for all to see.
In between such technicalities I was, of course, keeping a weather-eye on my twitter and saw the offer of a free download of an e-book and, not being one to refuse anything for free, I went and clicked the link which, unfortunately didn't appear to work. I tried it three times without success and then sent a tweet to the author Fiona Robyn who very sweetly explained it was an issue with the release time and I should try again later. I did and got it - along with an invoice from Amazon for the three times I'd tried to downloaded it but that was quickly sorted. Anyhow, the point I'm trying to get around to in my bumbling way is that Fiona shares a certain commonality with Yours Truly in that she is a writer and a psychotherapist and succeeds in doing what I am trying to set up in the new venture . . . and so I have joined her community which is aptly named Writing Our Way Home, and hope that this leads onto a sharing of many good and beautiful things. By the way, the free offer ends at some point tomorrow I believe - you can check it out by clicking on Fiona's name above. The only down side of all this positivity is that I've been so fired up and keen to create I haven't had time to but skim the book; I intend to give it serious consideration later this eve.
I can feel the call of a cup of tea tugging at my heartstrings, if such a thing is anatomically possible or merely a mixing of metaphors in response to that muse of Morpheus, so in any case I shall finish up here and hie my way down the Eiger face of the staircase to the kitchen where, I suspect, a cup of the steamy stuff may be had with even, perchance, a chocolate biscuit or three; the diet will begin . . . soonishly.
I hope the rest of your evening is a joy to behold - especially if you too have a gaudily painted bovine - and that tomorrow is bursting with happiness from the moment your eyes open. I know that in the Wigwam the weather is supposed to be dreadful tomorrow and, I suspect, the same is to be said for most of the country, so please ensure you take my love with you to act as an umbrella.
'til next time
Be Seeing You!