Some days, you just don't know what to blog about. Memories flutter across your mindscreen and you wonder whether or not you should pick one and run with it. You think about recent photographs and consider posting a few more with linking commentary. What about your method of cooking meaty rissoles? You could share that recipe.
You think about that idea you had for a poem called "Stuff" and the way people gather things around them for comfort and defence. Ornaments, gifts, pictures, objects imbued with memories, books and natural things like shells and pine cones. But you're not in the mood for such a task today - all that careful chiselling and smoothing. Word choices, line changes, echoes, half-rhymes.
You think you might say something about Aleppo or Yemen. All that horror - man's inhumanity to man - and the way The United Nations have appeared impotent, impassive, hopeless - allowing the slaughter to continue. You see those highly paid UN folk flying first class to New York year after year, staying in the best hotels, eating in the best restaurants, sitting in the assembly hall, looking important. And you see images of children blown to bits. What the hell are they doing? Why does the UN even exist if not to act?
Perhaps you could blog about your parking appeal process or the rip-off central heating chap or the cost of postage stamps for Christmas cards or The Great Western Express music weekend at Bardney Lincolnshire in 1972 - The Beach Boys, Slade, Roxy Music, Wishbone Ash, Joe Cocker, The Incredible String Band and Don McLean. And all that straw we threw in the air just for fun.
Yes, there are some days when you just don't know what to blog about. Days like this one. Meanwhile, time for a shower methinks. I will be heading down to the Oxfam shop in an hour and a half. Business is brisk in the days before Christmas.