As I said yesterday, I should calm down and be nicer and more patient so I’m writing this while I’m practising waiting. This is different to merely waiting because there is an element of choice about it. I’m waiting patiently and trying to be positive.
And they say men can’t multi-task.
I saw one on Sunday who could push a shopping trolley, look at his phone, give a bad example to his children and breathe through his mouth, all at the same time.
I’m currently waiting for a gas company surveyor to check our new earthing arrangements ready for the renewal of the heating system.
They gave us a four hour time slot and I have had to take a morning off work. Fortunately they just rang to say they would be here just before 9.00, so I will actually be able to get to work on time. If this wasn’t the case I’m sure this post would have been a lot less positive.
It’s not that I really want to go to work, but I have little to commend me as an employee other than reliability and I don’t want to lose that.
Today, in addition to attempting to be more positive, I’m pondering the nature of diaries. I kept one sporadically when I was about ten, then another when I was about sixteen and in my poetic phase. Neither of them gave any hint that one day I would be a blogger with five years of blogging behind me, though it’s fair to say that they did give evidence to suggest that my spelling, grammar and punctuation would need work. Looking back on old posts this is a theme which continues. I cannot believe how bad some of my old posts are in terms of typos, proof reading and poor writing.
This is about the time of year I normally start thinking of good intentions, New Year Resolutions and writing projects.
I have just about cured myself of the curse of New Year Resolutions and now know that good intentions butter no parsnips. However, what would life be without something to look forward to?
And so, it looks like I may become a diarist.
This, in my mind, means writing words on paper with a pen, rather than blogging, which is about cluttering cyberspace with links and pixels and all sorts of stuff I don’t understand.
Which all comes back to patience. I can knock out a blog post with a computer, some random overspill from a cluttered mind and a few spare minutes. But a diary, in my imagination at least, requires time and space and the gathering of thoughts at the end of the day. Possibly a leather topped desk, a log fire and a smoking jacket…