Updated: Aug 6, 2018
On January 1st 2018 I woke up to freedom, as well as a sore head. After ten years of non-stop campaigning, trying to raise awareness about a disfiguring drug side-effect which had been hushed up by the drug company Sanofi Aventis, I was suddenly going to be drowning in spare time. Woohoooo!
How would I fill these spare hours, each day? My husband was probably secretly hoping that the duster and polish might make an appearance or maybe the fridge would get a good sort out: maybe all his work shirts were going to make a miraculous appearance and be hung up, immaculately ironed.
OK, I'll admit to being disorganised and unable to prioritize anything but I seem to have so many 'to do' things it's impossible to know what to tackle first: a bit of this that and the other, then it looks like nothing has been done.
So here we are at the end of January, my new novel is well on it's way, my light-hearted motorhome memoir is speeding along plus a couple of short stories have been sent off.
As for my husbands secret hopes?
The ironing pile still resembles Mount Everest and the fridge continues to be cluttered.
My eyes resemble pee-holes in the snow from pc monitor glare. I don't understand why the thin layer of dust covering the screen doesn't help?