I wanted to tell you

The minute I stopped blogging, I thought of things I wanted to say. I still felt a bit fragile so I thought I’d stay away for the time being anyway.

I wanted to tell you about the sandals I’ve had made (for the price of a decent pair of leather sandals in the UK I had a pair made just for me). I wanted to post a picture because I was so excited.

I wanted to tell you how irritated I’d been by a motorbike on the pavement behind me while I was walking to Book Club. This is normal here and has never bothered me before so I wasn’t sure why it made me so angry this time. I run Book Club and I felt cross with myself for not managing to read Bleak House. It scared a lot of people off, and we were only five in attendance. We met in a new venue that served really yummy Berry yogurty shake thing. I wanted to tell you all how the four friends made me feel cheerful again.

I wanted to tell you that Bill contacted me after reading my Snake Farm post. Bill is a journalist in Houston and was writing an article about the snake farm for the Chronicle and he asked if could help him with some extra details. I could. I love the internet. You can see his article here.

I wanted to post a picture of a beautiful flower I saw.

I wanted to tell you that I picked up the soft contact lenses to replace my lost-because-I-was-so-drunk lens. They are the size of dinner plates and handling them is like manhandling a jelly fish.

I wanted to ask advice about something I don’t want to talk about. There are blurry lines between someone I know in a professional sense that I don’t if it’s right or okay to make an overture of friendship. Blurry lines. I can’t work out what to do so I’m doing nothing.

I wanted to say that I think my peculiar patch might be because I’m having a little moment of homesickness. Maybe because I’m flying home in a couple of weeks or maybe I booked the flight because I was in the early stages of homesickness. I get it so rarely I didn’t recognise it. I miss people, but I don’t often feel homesick.

I wanted to say that while I should've been reading Bleak House I was reading The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield and then The Beach by Alex Garland.

I wanted to tell you that I had hoped … so hoped … that not blogging meant I could write. I never found the time. I spent all of last week websiting. My ‘get writing or quit this pretending to write thing’ deadline is approaching. We’re away in Chiang Mai Friday to Thursday next week so I won’t be able to do much then. Will I quit?

I want to tell you that I'm not sure if I should post this or not.