|Mudmaid in the Lost Gardens of Heligan|
Where have I been? What can I tell you? I'd love to say I've been lying in a forest letting moss grow over me.
I haven't. I have no moss. If I did lie still for longer than a moment (I do try: flinging myself on the bed under the guise of putting away ironing, I often get as long as 17 seconds) it's unlikely I would be covered in greenery - more likely I'd be subsumed in bits of laundry, or toast crusts, or a plastic medal for an event no-one can remember attending, or a cardboard box inexplicably painted a lurid green that must Never Be Thrown Away. It's an educated guess, based on the contents of the floor around me.
It was my understanding that as children got older, they stopped being quite so all-consuming. It was toddlers, I thought, that didn't give you two minutes space to go to the loo. Once you had a teenager and a child in KS2 (or Juniors, as it still exists in my elderly head) you'd be able to sustain a meaningful thought process; you'd be able to get through a Saturday morning without feeling that your brain had been violently stirred with a spoon.
Not so. And having searched all summer for a blog post that suggested some kind of personal growth, I gave up. I made a collage. Personal growth; a sense of achievement; clarity on the meaning of life - these things may never come. I best stop waiting, and just start filling the space.