Bethlett .

97. I don't remember her voice but I remember her bright pink cardigan with cats on, I remember watching her bake jam tarts. I remember her roast dinners and the weird doll with a knitted skirt toilet roll cover. She couldn't walk far because she would get dizzy, we'd have fish and chips on a Friday and I'd always get a chicken for her on a Monday. She let me eat the skin. She let me eat the cake batter until the news said it wasn't safe. We would watch Jerry springer together and she would allow me to play with my dolls house. She had a very itchy sofa bed in the dining room but I always slept on the floor in her room. I remember her jewellery box, I'd open it and play with the beads. She had a skin tag on her neck that I was fascinated with. I remember her glasses and wrinkly skin. She took me to kwik save. I stopped her from falling over in the kitchen when she had a dizzy spell. She had a collection of Tetley ornaments she'd get from special Tetley

96. I usually write these posts the same way, I seem to find the words to write whilst I'm on the bus to work. I don't know why because it's just a simple bus journey. The same faces everyday no one speaks but those who are couples or friends. The bus journey is our little bubble I guess.  I look out the windows to the same green fields and dark trees, sometimes I spot something new which catches my eye. I often wonder where each of these people are going. Are they going home or just starting their day like me? Is this bus journey the quietest part of their day? Their mini escape from the blur that the actions of the day causes. I have no idea. But I like that, I can create a story in my mind for the strangers around me. I hope their days are positive and joyous. In my mind their lives are perfect. Maybe they try to think that too. Even if it is just for the 20 minute bus journey.  The truth is I'll never know these people, we'll more than likely ne

95 . There's something about this time of year I don't like. Everything looks grey, maybe that's because of the rain, causing the ground and the trees to look darker. I always feel this time of year looks 'untidy'.  It feels like there's a lot of pressure this time of year. A lot of people set these goals in their minds for what they would love to do and achieve but the realisation that anything worth doing takes time can feel overwhelming. I think we sometimes forget that not everything in life is instant. Memories and achievements stem from work. Hard work, that in the end is something to be proud of. That feeling of accomplishment is something we all love to feel.  The dull days of January can make it difficult to remain focused. The cold days are boring. Why venture into the chill when we can be warm in front of the tele?  And then, before we know it a month or two has gone by.  That's why I don't like this time of year muc

94 . I desperately want to write but I have nothing to write about. It's like my brain is teasing me, it desperately wants me to write something inspiring, something for me to be proud of but its not giving me the creativity and inspiration I need to actually write. Thinking about it though, I don't believe I will ever be proud of something I have written because if I was then maybe, just maybe I'd think there was no point to write anymore. I'd have nothing to push myself towards. But right now, I just want something to write about. I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs, I'm completely racking my brain and all I can think about is how terrible my handwriting is. Pointless when this is on a computer screen... You see I don't want to constantly write about sad things. Even though this is my outlet I just don't want to read these back one day and only see negativity. But with how this batch of writers block is going I may have no choice. This year I

93 . We spend so much time looking to the future we're missing today. By the time the future arrives it becomes history.  Create a daily goal and achieve it. That way you're not missing the present. Much love Xx