I’m writing my first post to myself because I’m not entirely convinced that I have it in me to keep a blog going. Those that know me would probably find this odd because I love writing, indeed I’ve just handed in a stonking great big manuscript for my first cookbook. I also love reading blogs – I think I’m following well over 50 now on my Feedly app and I take so much joy and inspiration from being lost in the words of others.
In truth, I’ve tried to write a blog a number of times in the past but I’ve never been able to find my flow, and promptly given up after just a few posts. Weird. Anyway, I don’t know what it was, perhaps a little sprinkling of Big Magic, but something told me to try again and give it a go and, as I’m currently write this to myself, I’m trying to ignore the fact that this may make me a virtual crazy person.
A big reason for me in starting this blog is to have a space to take down my thoughts as some sort of release. I find my mind exhausting sometimes. I can overthink even the smallest matters and conversely I find myself feeling anxious about the bigger things going on in the world. Things which I cannot possibly hope to have any influence on but nevertheless keep me up a night. Deep.
I also want to keep a diary of my moments with my boys. I have a terrible memory. I genuinely have no idea where my head was during most of my childhood, or even what I did yesterday. And don’t even ask me how old I am because I lost track some way back and I’m sure I time stopped when I reached 28, or something? Although I know the grey hairs and wrinkles would beg to differ.
And of course food. I love food. It is like a third child to me. My whole career as a dietitian has spun around it and if I’m not talking about my boys, I’m probably talking about food. Or eating it. Maybe I will share what’s going on in my kitchen. There’s always a new recipe to try, a new cook book, a new ingredient, a new gadget. It’s all just one big fabulous food adventure.
Must stop there now.