The man’s out watching rugby with the other menfolk. Our friend’s wife is away so I thought I’d let those two (and another man) have a manly night together, drinking beer and talking in manly voices. It means I can sit and chill out. However, I called Ruthie instead! We chatted and caught up – or rather, I mostly chatted towards the end! I don’t like to – but we needed more time to talk about everything. I’m calling again on Sunday so we can talk again. I can’t wait to see that girl again. We’ve been friend for more than ten years now. That’s a long time in my life. Friends have never stuck around so long when I’ve moved with Dad again. Ruth’s gold dust. Steadfast friends who don’t need a phone call each day, but can go for months with talking, then suddenly, boom! You just call and talk for three hours! It’s nice :-) Love her! Love you sweetie!

I also decided to try Natalie Goldberg’s First Thoughts chapter in her Writing Down the Bones. The idea is to access your first thoughts, before they are tempered by your conscience and morals. It’s hard. Really hard, I find! My mind always wants to try and control what I’m writing. But, then, you gradually start to realise you can spell words wrong and not have to cross out, and miss full stops, and just say something like “We went for a walk ice cream park swings.” It’s just thoughts as they come to you. It’s great for bringing out specific details which you might not otherwise think of as important. But, as she say, detail is very important.

First thoughts sounds like a great idea for dealing, internally, with a lot of my emotional baggage which I haven’t really faced since they happened. I’m very good at putting things in a box, locking the box and moving on. I get top prize for moving on. I’ve found that things I haven’t really thought about for a while have suddenly surfaced. Things like my old best friend. My ex. All sorts. Things I haven’t had to think about properly for years. So, I’m going to use first thoughts to deal with it all, in it’s raw form. It will also be a great way, I think, of dealing with my man’s ex (A.K.A. She Who Shall Not Be Named).

Talk of the devil, I have to go and pick the blokes up from the rugby match now. Until next time.

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