Tag Archives: lack of inspiration

Here I Am Again

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Soda Bread

I have a head full of nothing worth blogging about and that’s where this post should really end.  However, even by my standards a blog post of eighteen words that says I have nothing to say is quite minimalistic. It would be a good thing for politicians to do though, so maybe I should do it and hope it catches on.

I have a maelstrom of poetry in my head that needs sorting out, a list of titles for numismatic subjects and that’s all. At the back of my mind, having listened to Johnny Cash last night on TV, I obviously have a few scrapings of country music, because the title just popped up. And that’s it. Nothing else.

Unless the thought of breakfast counts. That’s in there too.

Cheese and Onion Soda Bread

Do I dare to get an idea by checking the news?

Or do I stay happy but clueless, and uninspired?

Well, I looked at the news, and I’m still clueless and uninspired. This is probably a good thing as it means little is happening.

It is now three days until the end of the month and I have done very little about sending submissions. Despite an early flurry (two) I have done little about finishing most of my submissions and am starting to worry. That’s what I will be doing in a minute.

At this point yesterday I added my tags and posted without either a title or photos. It was  a senior moment, but even my senior moments are growing more mundane. It’s probably a sign that I’m getting older and they have lost their novelty.

Soda Bread with a poor attempt at a Cross.

 

A Mind Live a Sieve

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I was just looking up more details for the fund-raising efforts of the Boer War (as I’m writing a short article on the medallion I bought last night) when I found this reference. It’s a poor do, as my grandmother would have said, when you don’t even remember what you wrote six years ago.  I do, to be honest, remember most of the detail about the medallion and fund, it’s just that I have forgotten writing about it. Actually, I can’t remember much from six years ago, I think I was just starting to develop arthritis and my knee was a bit creaky. How things have declined in the last few years . . .

As you can see in the picture, if you click on the link above, the medallion I used as an example is not a patch on the one I bought last night. Now I want a silver one, preferably in a box. That’s the collecting bug for you – buy one, want another. You can probably get pills to cure collecting.

That’s about it. Inspiration has eluded me once again, though I have managed one senryu tonight. It is not a lot. Three lines of poetry does not really excuse my neglect of the washing up. Nor does making the sandwiches count for much as Julia has already made them twice this week.

For some reason my mind just turned to a piece of stock a friend of mine once had when we shared a junk shop. It was  German WW2 helmet with holes drilled in it and a base added so it could stand upside down and be used as a colander. IN 1945 Germany had been so badly knocked about that everything was pressed into use to rebuild the nation.

I don’t have a picture of it, but this is a slightly more sophisticated version from The Western Australia Museum. This he sort of thing my mind contains. It’s also the sort of thing it talks about when trying to avoid useful effort.

King Charles III 2023 Sovereign (Reverse)

The header picture is the Obverse of the new coin – sorry about picture quality but hey are too shiny to show up well on photos. Well, they are when you have second class equipment and skills.

 

Late . . .

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I did it again. Approaching midnight and . . . I fell asleep and woke at just after 1.00. I just made sandwiches and it’s 1.27. Is this a good time to write? No. Am I going to anyway? Yes, of course I am.

Having bad habits and ignoring my health are two of my main activities. This is stupid, as it’s not really as if I enjoy siting here struggling. The ideas I had eight hours ago have deserted me and all I have left is an echoing void  between my ears.

The Apprentice is over for another year and Lord Sugar has informed the country that if the BBC ever replaces him on the programme it will be the death of it because no other entrepreneur will be able to replace him.  I think he’s wrong. The programme is currently drifting and looks tired as his scriptwriters struggle to put witty remarks into his mouth, and a crowd of detestable candidates all tell us how good they are.

Tonight’s final was won by an objectionable candidate who defeated an equally objectionable, but slightly less competent candidate. It was like a rerun of my favourite episode of “Which Disease Would You Like?”, the Typhoid v Typhus episode to be precise. To be fair, they could be lovely people, but the format of the show encourages people to be excruciatingly awful.

We stopped watching it years ago but seemed to drift back into it. It’s a decision I regret, but at least it gave me the subject for a post.

Melodrama and a Little Light Snoozing

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Oh dear! I fell asleep in front of the TV tonight, and woke up after midnight. This is becoming a bit of a habit. Hopefully I will get things back to normal soon.

I got side-tracked last night and forgot to post. I couldn’t really think of anything to post and managed to fil my time with reading blogs instead of writing. Eventually I realised it was after midnight. Same applies tonight. I have filled my time with things and am finding it difficult to find anything to write about.

I spent twenty minutes thinking and rewriting before going to watch The Coroner on cach-up. That lasted from 9.00 to 10.00, at which point I seem to have fallen asleep. I’m not feeling particularly funny tonight, or historical or poetic, so that’s all out. I’m not even enthusiastic enough for a decent rant, even though a few things came close to setting me off during the day. I put it down to the weather, and the fact that the year is near enough over. Today is the longest day and as far as I’m concerned that means it’s all downhill from here. All I can think is “Dead and never called me Mother!”

It does seem like the poor little orphaned year has died without having a chance to come to life. No lockdown of any consequence, and no freedom or enthusiasm either. It’s just a nothing sort of year.

I suppose that after trying 63 different years, it was inevitable that I would end up with one that wasn’t particularly thrilling. Even then, if I’ve wanted to feel a frisson of danger all I needed to do was select a supermarket and walk close to somebody who wasn’t wearing a mask. Imagine that, a world where going out to buy bread can be a potentially fatal experience.

Anyway, I will post now, so at least I won’t miss blogging on Tuesday.