The call from the prevention people hasn’t come. They haven’t emailed me either. I’m quite pleased with myself for cutting out chocolate with 50% sugar in it, and not eating a single ice-cream all month.
Usually, in a break between a long bought of concentrated writing, I dash off to buy a packet of biscuits, something sweet that doesn’t need cooking or attention so that I can continue writing, because it is going so well, and I don’t want to lose the thread.
Are you thinking the same thought that just came into my head?
I was thinking, if I had more sense I’d have made up some muesli or paella last night ready for that hungry moment. Writing isn’t like that. Inspiration comes when you least expect it; when you let go.
Take Tuesday, I was sitting in the garden having a quiet moment staring at all the beauty in nature and dreaming up the next plant I would bed in, when a bee buzzed by and drew my attention to a clump of purple flowers, which proliferate so well that I’ve propagated them in every corner of the front and back gardens.
I went in doors to get my camera, but the bee had gone. My sister loves bees, and I was going to send her a photograph. The bee didn’t return. I began to feel melancholy as the sun went in.
It was then that I wrote a poem about bees, trees and wasps, as I was reminded of something I experienced as a teenager which upset me.
I haven’t written a new poem like that since I was an undergraduate and my tutors told me I was a poet….
You can read the poem on Tuesday’s blog.
Thanks for reading.
Have a lovely day.
Hermione
hermionelaake 