Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the flat

Not a creature was stirring, except for one lowly pratt,

No stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

No hopes that anybody soon would be there,

When living so long, with nothing to show,

At this time of the year, there is no inner glow,

There is only TV to fill the large gap,

But most of the viewing is just total ….

Other than posting the Wordle League I co-run on Twitter there have been hardly any blogs this year. There is a good reason for that. Since I hit my zero birthday in February, the failure of my existence has hit me hard. The harsh fact that what I wanted from my life is now never going to be, has broken me.

I wanted to be a writer, and some would say I am – I have written 4 novels and a children’s book – but not me. I mean a successful writer, earning money as a full time occupation, with an agent, a publisher and my name on the store bookshelves. I am not a designer or a marketer. I write the story and that is for others to do. The reviews of ‘Rewind’ and ‘Once Upon A Week’ – few though they are – suggest that they would have sold, if I had been given a break. Knowing that makes the failure so much worse.

I wanted to be happy too of course, and I can honestly say that I never have been. I have always been looking for something, or rather someone, but my better half I have never found, so I am a lesser half at best.

Christmas is a bad time for me any year, but this year bearing in mind my overall state of mind it is going to be worse. And 2024 stretches out before me like one long treadmill. I wonder sometimes how long I can carry on, but I always do, perhaps I am stronger than I feel or more likely I am just too stubborn.