Home Alone

Ooo, I’ve spend ages surfing Amazon and Ebay and came away with angels, Indian gods, Banksy, Princess Di and Hollywood musicals, on postcards. Ah, my life is complete.

I mailed a dozen cards yesterday and five today and there will be maybe six or more tomorrow. Then, I’ll slow down a bit…but it is sooo addictive! And, there are LOADS of cards winging their way to me. A fairy slipped through my letterbox today – so how can I complain? Of course, I haven’t done any writing but I’m thinking of blasting away at NaNo on the first of November; I might give the main character postcrossing as a hobby. Happiness is doing what you want, and that’s all I ever do; I’m not in a hurry to become a novelist and be forced into that pressure of sales and ‘putting myself out there’. No. I’m very happy with my position as a poet who shows herself at festivals and readings a couple of times a year.

The writing on the cards is great exercise and I really enjoy sitting down to discover what an image will drag out of me; sometimes little truisms and bites of wisdom appear. Tonight there were two memories about dressing up in the late sixties and teenage broken hearts. But it’s just as well I’m skint and can’t go gallivanting into Glasgow throwing money at Costa coffees – I’ll just have to stay here and write.


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