Toads

So I started out all enthusiastic with this blog thing, I was happy I was writing again, happy I was doing something creative, but as with so many things, it started off with a bang and sidled off with a whimper. The problem was, the doubt crept in. Why would anyone be interested? That's the thing with your inner critic isn't it? So instead of listening to that old toad, I'll just do it anyway.

Speaking of old toads, I recently cast off the Philip Larkin one. The toad that sits on your shoulder. Work. Not work in general, that would be stupid. But my "proper" job. I was getting so far away from what I was actually good at that I was waving at it as I struggled to keep my head above the water. And I was definitely drowning, not waving for fun.

So I've embarked on the freelance thing again. Confidence wavers from time to time - who the hell leaves their job in the middle of a recession? - but I know that I'm happier. And saner. And healthier for it. And, consequently, so are my kids and boyf. They'll be getting coal and satsumas for Christmas, but they don't mind as long as mummy's not a stressed-out old bag anymore! Eh kids, are you with me? Kids?