The Seven Summary
Gaelikaa, whose thoughtful, reflective blog about her West meets East life always makes me stop and think, has tagged me to describe myself in seven words. Here goes:-
Tenacious. I will abso-berludy-lutely cling on to what’s important to me. Seven years ago my dear friend, Ann, got me into running. We joined Epsom Allsorts, a women’s group with formidable skills in talking and laughing whilst running. The club's highlight was the dreaded Hogsmill Ladies 5 Mile Race, which gave me my first taste of competitive running. As a novice runner I learned that by doing the work, hanging on in there and putting one foot in front of another you can achieve half marathons. It’s a lesson I apply to everyday life. Every novel starts with a single word.
Warthoggish. When my daughters were little they were very impressed by a nature programme about a mother warthog defending her young. ‘Ooh, that’s just like you, Mummy,’ they said. No one makes my babies cry and gets away with it as one or two horrid smelly boys have discovered along the way. Hurt my girls and you will find yourself cast out into deep space for all eternity.
Impatient. Doesn’t really go with tenacious, does it? But, I’m driven by a fear of time running out so anything that takes up too much of it drives me nuts. Trying to get my broadband fixed (you still haven’t conquered that dodgy junction box, have you BT?) nearly pushes me over the edge. I have huge admiration for crafty bloggers like Pipany, but I get very bad-tempered if I can’t make something quickly. No one comes near when I’m making curtains because the air is blue and one incident of pastry-making almost caused a fatality.
Inquisitive. I don’t mean nosy, I don’t give a flying fart about what the neighbours are up to, in fact I’d much prefer not to have any neighbours which is why Tom and I are trying to move somewhere even quieter than where we are now. What I mean is that I’m keenly interested in hearing the next piece of music that transports me, the next book I don’t want to put down, the next poem I can’t forget. I’m curious about what’s out there.
Brave. Are you allowed to say you’re brave? I am though, because I think anyone who goes to sea in a small boat is brave, especially when there’s seasickness to overcome as well. I do it because it’s important to Tom, so it’s important to me. I’m quite proud that we’ve sailed from Walton-on-the Naze to west Wales and across the Channel and back... even if my head was in a bucket most of the way.
Kind. Now I’m not saying I’m kind, but I try to be kind because what is the point if we don’t look after each other?
Fortunate. Like everyone, I’ve been through the wringer and seen some tough times, but so far as loved ones are concerned I’ve been very fortunate. You know who you are. Thank you.
I’m now passing this tag to Frances(sorry!), Little Brown Dog, Preseli Mags, Snailbeach Shepherdess, Mountainear, Milla and Edward.
The photo is me, at about seven, taunting my little sister, who is struggling to get her beloved car back. (Loving that chunky little leg, Kid).