Three months, almost exactly, since I last posted, and I find myself asking (yet again) if it’s time to just accept that I am a rubbish blogger and give it all up. And yet again, the answer comes back, why? It costs me very little to keep it going, and every now and again I get a little burst of momentum and write a few posts.
I just read back on the very few posts I wrote back at the beginning of lockdown, and I am so glad I wrote and posted them. If nothing else, this blog is a diary, for me and me alone. It’s never going to make me any money or bring me any fame, so I’m just going to enjoy it for what it is.
I’ve been thinking about my birthday lists; 38 Before 38 was number 11, and I haven’t actually totted up what my final score was, but it wasn’t a stellar year. I want to carry on doing them, because I find it hard to let go (this blog being a case in point), but thinking up nearly 40 items year on year is hard, y’all.
So I think I’m going to skip 39 Before 39, and make a 40 Before 40 list, giving myself two years to tick everything off. It feels more achievable, in terms of both making a list, and getting some of it achieved. Though I am sure I will come to eat my words in November 2022.