Sometimes TLF can’t find inspiration anywhere. I know I left it somewhere. Possibly with my keys. Or my season ticket. Or maybe it’s down the back of the sofa.
And yes mum I have looked in all the places where I last had it.
Then magically something is said, something happens, a ridiculous connection forms in the theme park that is my head. Or a mug breaks.
Just a moment. It inspires. You type. You move on.
Except for that bloody mug. I open the cupboard to facilitate tea making responsibilities and there it is; staring at me. Willing me to write about it again, like some attention seeking Z list celebrity. And of course goading me that since it last saw some glue action Lesta haven’t managed a win.
I am becoming worryingly obsessed.
The hammer didn’t work.
It might be time to up the ante.
“Just borrowing the shotgun darling.”
Annie Oakley Fox