Upsy Daisy

When you find yourself on the floor after a good kicking, you have a choice. Get up, get on and get even – or lie there and moan piteously.

I must admit my natural inclination is to lie still and not even bother with the moaning, though I might work up to the odd faint whimper now and again if left for long enough. But, thank God, I have children, and luckily they are bolshy types who know when my mind is not on the job and have now insisted that enough is enough and that I must stop flopping around the place like the before picture in a plastic surgery ad and do something useful. So up I get, wash the boot marks off my face, shrug my shoulders and straighten that spine.

Things are going to change around here. No more concessions, no more conciliation. No more guilt. No more …. er, income. And what on earth do I do next?

I’m rather off The Secret after recent events. The Louis Vuitton handbags seem to be as firmly stuck in the post as Winnie the Pooh was in the rabbit hole, and other events seem to have shown me little of the universe’s abundance, unless it is an abundance of crap, and a surprising absence of cosmic loo paper to clean it all up with.

But I have my lovely children, cat and house, which are all anyone could really want, and on top I’ve still got my book being published, which is as gorgeous as possible. Nothing Mr X can do about that, ha! Although perhaps I shouldn’t say that …, no, I must think positive. I really, really don’t think he can stop it happening. Fingers crossed. And I’ve got plenty of material for another book, as my lovely cyberchums have pointed out. Thank you so much to everyone for your comments, which really have kept me going. True Love is also leaving me lots and lots of time and space to write hundreds of new books in and generously, if inadvertently, providing tons of inspiration, too.

And there are other hopeful little signs of regeneration, like the writing club I’ve just joined, with a cast of characters who are all too delicious not to write about.

Of course, I wouldn’t be able to see any of this if I carried on lounging around in the gutter. No view at all from down there, I’ve noticed. So there’s really no choice. Up I get. On I go.

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