Carrots and Peas

Isn’t it funny how we look forward to the arrival of the weekend, but then spend most of the weekend watching it vanish before our eyes? The clock just ticked past 10pm, and saw me re-filling the washing machine as it did so. Is that the fourth or fifth load today? I’ve lost count. Before that I washed up the dinner things.

I remember watching “ABBA The Movie” years ago, and saw Bjorn complaining that being on tour destroyed the creative part of being a musician. I think I understand that now in terms of writing. I’ve been wanting to get started on the not-so-secret novel writing project for some time now, but there’s always an endless list of things that should have been done.

As much as I would like to think “fuck it”, and do what I want for a few hours, I also know that I’ll wake up to the same list of things in the morning - and it will be even longer.

There’s always something. Always something that will crush, rip-up, or otherwise destroy any thought of doing anything even vaguely creative.

Anyway.

It’s not all doom and gloom. This afternoon a good friend messaged us - having a similarly crap day - inviting us to the pub. I bought her a “Pornstar Martini” (I had no idea what it was either), and she returned the best smile. I think sometimes all it takes is a single good turn to remind you that the world isn’t all that bad. It seems it doesn’t matter if you’re the one giving or receiving - the magic works either way.

I’m holed up in the junk room writing this - listening to some randomly conjured playlist from the internet. It started out with James Taylor, and has moved on to the Dooby Brothers. Whenever I hear the Dooby Brothers I think of Forrest Gump - and when I think of Forrest, I think of Jenny - and when I think of Jenny, I think of a friend I’ve not heard from in a very long time.

Carrots and peas. We were like carrots and peas. We still are, probably.