Where Next?

You may have noticed that this blog stopped somewhat unexpectedly back in September and just a suddenly started again, with just a little bit of a rant-fest. (Sorry about that, it wasn't meant as a deliberate re-launch attention grabber. That outburst just happened to coincide with an independent decision to restart the blog. I'm much better, though, now.)

So, in between time, what was I doing? Well, as I intimated, I had a little time touring my beloved North West of England, and I did, as it happens, write (using rather quaint pen and paper) quite a bit of stuff that I intended to publish here. Some of it was quite entertaining (I thought) and perhaps might have shed a little light, for you dear reader, on something of what makes me tick. I might yet re-cycle some of it in due course. The rather dull reality of the matter is that pressure of time meant I just never got round to typing any of the stuff up. However, while it lay unread by any eyes but my own, it dawned on me that none of it amounted to anything. It was just froth. It wasn't going anywhere, it had no direction or purpose. It quickly dawned on me that the problem wasn't with the blog itself or the larger website (although that too was going nowhere) - it was me, Natasha. I wasn't going anywhere. I realised I was stuck in a rut. Oh yes, there were plans and dreams, but no will to bring them to fruition.

OK, so after three months of doing sod all but gaze into the empty depths of my soul - and sulking because it was Autumn - my plans and dreams are still just that. It's just that now, at last, I feel as though some of the will that I was lacking is starting to return.

I don't intend, just now, to reveal what I hope the future holds, or how I intend to make it happen. I really don't like raising false expectations or giving hostages to fortune, but I feel, if nothing else, this blog now has the purpose of recording my progress - or lack of it - towards my ambitions. Hopefully this blog will hold me to account if nothing much happens, because it'll be as boring as fuck to write - as well as read - if that is the case.

And so, where next? I'm fucking off for a drink, that's what. Meeting the same people in the same old pub as I've been doing for donkeys years! Every thousand mile march starts with a first step - it's just that this isn't it.