I am a writer and I am storing the experience away for the day when I can step back and write about it objectively or introduce it into my fiction. In the meantime, I do my best to assuage my passion for writing, although today, the pieces tend to be much shorter due to regular interruptions.
If you have read some of my earlier posts, you will perhaps glimpse a little of that inability I now have to concentrate for long periods. The workmen on the roof across the road are a form of escape as I watch their progress with the gutting and restoration of the house. I find myself enjoying the spectacle of heavy goods vehicles manipulating the narrow street below which is lined both sides with residents' cars, mine included. I'm afraid I now seize any out-of the-ordinary happening to delay the moment when I have to admit that my Regency ghost novel is going to be waiting in the sidelines for some time to come. My attention span, these days, is not long enough to do it credit.
I suppose this may sound a little dismal, especially if you have had a similar experience. It is not my intention to make you relive it but in fact to comment on how even the littlest distraction is welcome.
I have saved the best part until last...
The top day of the week for me is Saturday when I spoil myself. On an average it takes me about a half hour to carefully examine the latest treasures delivered to my all-time favourite charity shop, which will remain nameless because, like hunting for mushrooms or fishing, one does not want to reveal the best places.
Believe me, in this day and age, it doesn't get any better than my much-loved shop! Does saying it is the highlight of my week sound pathetic? Who cares. It carries me through the week on that high. My desk may be a mess, but I am surrounded by all those wonderfully cheap and unusual purchases, and there is still enough room for more. Can hardly wait for next Saturday!