It was bliss.
Furiously scribbling my way through one exercise, I flipped the page to continue.
Only to be confronted by a shopping list. And on the next page, a list of cricket game-times, a child's drawings and lots of pretend "running" writing, two doctors appointments, a recipe, a phone message and a to-do list...Flick, flick, flick. The book was almost empty of fresh pages. And full of inane, but necessary, details.
A sign perhaps. That this life needs less "catching" and more good, old-fashioned sorting.
I vow to start afresh and do better.
Or at least buy a new writing notebook.
Anyway, this was my favourite "wrong" thing in the writing book. Written by one of my daughters at some point.
And no, I haven't a clue. You?
Yours. amongst the scrap paper