There is so much I want to write about at the moment. Storecupboards - what to store, and what I have in. Leading on to menu planning, and how I do it. How to have a home cooked meal on the table even when you work full time plus and your brain has turned to sawdust and your autopilot (itself turned to sawdust) is running your life. About home educating for A Levels and the challenges and triumphs of growing a young adult who does not fit any known mould.
Then there's all that stuff I first need to find time and energy to do before I can write about it - like making blackberry wine, or elderberry and clove syrup. This latter I really must hurry up with, as it's only a matter of time now before someone comes down with the sniffles.
Plus the final tally of STOP-tober, and what the month taught me, and what I will take forward. And various other things stemming from that, things I fail to even remember what they are, all stuck in the blog post drafts, to be attended to.... Some time.
And then there is other stuff, like book reviews, and my rather belated discovery , after a decade in which I managed to notch up just one single theatre visit (and that was last year, with DD), that now every Cinderella can go to the ball for the price of a cinema ticket, thanks to the live theatre broadcasts (and some much-welcomed repeats) to local cinemas. I won't say it's as good as being there - it isn't - but it's the next best thing. And certainly after a show like the one we've seen last night (Danny Boyle's 2011 staging of Frankenstein), the bulk of the audience seems to forget that they are not really there, and that a standing ovation is neither here nor there a couple of years after the actual night of the show.
Still. There is a magic about make-believe.... And this was about as magic as they get.
So yes, I want to write about Frankenstein, and what the story means to me. Some day.
Not to mention that, after I got An Idea a couple of weeks back, and cramped my right hand into a claw feverishly writing down a 5000 word synopsis for a novel (it has to be longhand at this stage, else it evaporates - mercifully, now all that is down, I ought be able to type from now on), and what I would really, really like to do, is challenge myself to write a first draft of this novel in the next three months.... To have this first draft, at least, finished by my 37th birthday. Because, for some reason, this feels important. To me, for me.
And in order to start as I mean to go on, I really should have started today. But I didn't, and I won't.
I did manage to get everyone fed two or three meals, depending on their availability at home; I went to work and did the job I am paid to do: and I have kept on top of the laundry. I have even washed up after dinner.
However, that is all there is for today. I am now running on empty, which is why I remain stuck in the wanties for a little while longer, and as none of those fabulous posts I would really like to write for you are getting written tonight..... I am just going to stick some random photos of our dinners and similar to the bottom of this one and be done with it for tonight.