I had a bad-mummy day today. Instead of taking my cubs swimming, as I'd promised, I went back to bed. Spent most of the day there in fact. Not that there was anything wrong as such, wasn't ill, just bored, I tend to go to sleep when I'm bored. Made up for the lack of meaningful contact with my children this evening when we sat down together and watched a programme about the 15 best diving spots in the world. Ended up missing most of the commentary though because my fish-mad cubs squealed – loudly, in my good ear - every time they saw a fish species they knew. They know a lot...

I wonder what I'd do with myself if I stopped writing. Go mad, probably, drowning in the details of others peoples' lives filling my head.
Eh.
I've been imagining 'what if?' all my life, mentally putting myself into situations varying from tragic to merely annoying, to see how I'd react. Which is fine - a psychologist sometime in the 80's said this sort of fantasy role-playing was good because it gave people a chance to develop 'strategies' for coping - but being of a mildly obsessive temperament I naturally took it to extremes. How could I possibly care about exam results when in my mind I was dealing with the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust? Sometimes I think (see, here we go again) what might have happened if I hadn't been quite so much at the mercy of my imagination. Would I have studied more? Gone on to higher education? Had a clue what I wanted to do with my life? *g*

I've just eaten some jelly that was optimistically called 'pink lemonade flavour'. It was a pretty colour at least, even if it only tasted like sweetened gelatine.

I really like the idea of doing a fictional blog - ie: writing a blog from the pov of a character. Hn, nothing definite as yet though, I just like the idea.