What was I thinking of? Goodbye indeed to my ancient BlogSpot. After so many years of being together, writing has helped me through thick and thin, in times of need there is always the written word that helps heal. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part...etc etc.
It was time for a new persona. The old one was weary, worn out, bored even of being tarred with the same old brush. Sally's Chateau had a good run, Carcassonne Sally endeavoured to keep up the pace but they were never really 'home'. Home is where the heart is and my heart was never there although I put on my very best show. It was an adventure at the time but in hindsight I could have happily cut the time in half and that's being polite. Still I squeezed a book out of it which is currently being reviewed by an agent so we shall see.... Peter Mayle is dead so lets have some true hindsight into living in the middle of no-where and being British.
I occasionally struggle to be polite these days. Say what you mean, mean what you say. Life is too short for shilly-shallying and wasting time on indifferent places and people. There are books to be devoured, walks to be embraced, cycle rides to be explored, new cameras to be focused and held in awe.
Meanwhile amongst other things I run a market stall which is an education in itself, a real 'eye opener' to be sure. Where do people get the notion I am a charity, worse still a car boot stall. Someone has to source it all you know, that someone is me. 'You're having a laugh aren't you' I might retort as someone might attempt to knock down the price to an obscene level. Clearly not in some cases. Gives me a chuckle though..... afterwards.
I do sobering stuff these days too. Gone are those long, lazy, languid lunches around the pool and pootling around in a eye popping classic car. I work with a charity that helps people who are struggling to make ends meet. It's called Cupboard Love and is held weekly at the church opposite. It is in such stark contrast to my former life that I am humbled by some of the people I meet. Everyone has a story to tell, some are so sad you wonder how people still manage to plod on but against all odds they keep surfacing to the top.
I have more in common with them than you might first imagine. They would never know that. Some of the chaps the other week asked me why I was always so jolly. 'You're always smiling' they said. 'You have to' I replied.
I went home and thought about it and as I do every so often think back to the many things my Father would say to me. Life is like a glass half filled with water, it is either half full or half empty depending which way you look at it. In the past I am ashamed to say that despite having materialistic things some people could only dream of I would look at life as though my glass was half empty until one day he told me off, told me he had had enough of my moaning.
Look at that picture above. A slice of heaven if ever there was one.
And I live here.
Tales from Bridport here I come.....