Grateful: Day 83 - Bogus

I was thinking this morning... 100 days is just over three months. It feels like a really long time that I've been writing this blog. I can remember the time before it, but not very well. But if you're pregnant, you're normally pregnant for 280 days (thank you, Google). That's longer, isn't it. And yet when people are pregnant it seems to be no time at all and then all of a sudden: BOOM! Their life has changed for ever. Thank you for a lovely comment from Rosalyn Bolt. I will keep going, like a pregnancy, and see what comes out.

I'm excited. I'm hoping to go and see a flat with a dog early next week. It's in Stoke Newington, so if it's right for all involved and I end up living there, it'll be brilliant for visiting Laura, who had a baby in late August. God, I hope I got that right - I'm appalling with such dates. I asked my very lovely friend (and wonderful mother) Helen 'What date is your son's birthday again?'. 'Same as yours.' Oh, fuck. That one, I really should have remembered.

I think it's weirding people out when I ask what kind of dog they have. It's a fair question. I think I might stop, though. I have my fingers crossed that I'll turn up at a house and be leapt on by a Viszla or an ugly-as-an-arse English Bull Terrier, or some muscly mongrel. The reason I ask is because just imagine my face if I turned up and it was a twattish little Pomeranian or a Scotty or something. I'd do my best, but... Ooh, what about a Schnauzer.

I've been asking myself too why this passion for dogs? What is it that makes that happen? It wasn't nurture, in my case. And how can I be 'interested' in such things? I stood next to a man on the tube last night, who was reading a book about capitalism, politics, socialism... you see - I couldn't quite keep it in my head because it was fundamentally not interesting to me.

I'd like to see myself as the kind of person who's passionate about politics, but it would not be true. I'm not. But I love a good Doberman (even if I'm never quite sure how to spell it) and I could talk about the different natures of breeds until my eyes fell out of my head. Not that they would. I'd still be talking. I don't have an answer to that question, but I don't mind. I'm grateful for things that make me happy. I don't care what they are, within reason, as long as that's what they do. Obviously, if scooping people's eyes out with a spoon made me deliriously happy, I'd have a little think before indulging, but liking dogs, that's fine.

This morning, I didn't wake up. Well, I did, but I was having a lovely dream, so I clutched my phone to me and slept some more, again and again. When I woke up properly, it was too late to make the pond before I had my call at 9am, so I didn't. I took my call all bleary-eyed, despite a full pot of mate first. It was noticed!

And ooh, that call. It was to discuss the exciting bit of work that came up last week. It was a brilliant call. I found out that what I thought was being asked of me - to write a book with someone - wasn't it at all, and that what was wanted - coaching and ideas sessions - didn't have quite the same appeal. Or does it? Well, I have a few days to think about that, but currently, I suspect it's a very good idea indeed.

I love working with Øyvind. He's ace, and the ideas flow is exciting. That's worth doing. Well worth it. Whether or not it's what I expected. And I suspect I may have heard what I wanted to hear in the first call, rather than things having changed. I don't think that's what he promised. I think I heard the mention of a book and got all salivatey and good to go on it. That's INFORMATION.

And the other thing that the phone call really made jump up and down in front of me is: if you want to write a book, sweet cheeks, write a book. Why wait for someone else to give you the content and the drive? If that's what you want to do, do it. Do it. Do it now.

I wrote a booklet over Christmas. I quite enjoyed it, in the end. I certainly enjoyed the end product. I liked its structure. I liked how it was built. I liked building it. And for the first time in a long time, I had that big, fresh flow of ideas on my own, without Rob or Øyvind on the other end of Skype. So this can happen. I can do something like this. I was also inspired to read on FB that Paddy Otley has finished his novel. I can see it in print already. He's a talented man, that Paddy. And he likes monsters. And making things. He once left a doll on my desk, covered in a cloth, with its arm cut off and stuck in its forehead. He said 'I thought it's something you would like' and he was right. That hideous gift really pleased me and I still own it.

Thank you for my pondage, despite it being nearly midday. I still went and the water still blessed me. The sun was out and the birds were happy. In the naked trees, the squirrels were easy to see. I've never noticed them before, but there they were. The other day when I was in, I had a very strange sensation in the back of my neck. Like everywhere else was immune but that was the only place to feel the cold. Today, my legs did that a bit, and lower torso. Isn't it amazing (I said this to a lady there two days ago) that every day, the sensation is different. There is no 'the same'. It changes, changes, changes. Brilliant.

I bumped into Teresa, who attended the Christmas do at Kate's chapel. She bought me a cup of tea in a little cafe in Hampstead, and we had a chat. I loved how her face (a very smooth-skinned, lovely face) lit up when she talked about dance. She's seen a lot, and theatre. She loves it. You can see that she does in those cheeks. It was a lovely exchange, and I am grateful.

Today, I have not achieved the things I wanted to. Pretty much any of them, actually. I have felt frustrated and sorry that I haven't been more focused. But then I sit in front of this blog, and all the little gifts come back to me. The wide-eyed, staring boy in the cafe queue. The beautiful face of the waiter in Kenwood House on New Year's Day, which I forgot to mention before we left (and forgot completely, since), but here it is again.

I'm grateful at how clear-headed I feel without the caffeine and how it's been easy, so far, to avoid. I'm grateful to have my dinner cooked for me AGAIN and to be about to relax with a film, with Kate. What a relaxing thing to do. Inception. I'm excited!

I had a walk in Acton Park. In the dark. In the dark of Acton Park. A children's book, perhaps, or a crime novel. Ooh.. And today's brilliant gift was the beautifully named 'Bogus' - a black Labrador with a lit red collar, a lit red ball and a Kiwi or Aussie owner that kept shouting his name, again, again again. Perfect. Perfect. Thank you.