It was Virginia Wolf who said that a woman must have a room of her own if she is to write fiction. Virginia’s statement was a Feminist one, mine, to be honest, is more practical. I have found that I need my own personal space, a room of my own so to speak, to truly relax and to indulge in a bit of blog writing.
I have been quiet on the blog front recently. This wasn’t an intentional blogging holiday, just a bit of a cool down because there has been loads of other stuff going on. The builders have been in the flat installing a heating system, knocking down a couple of walls and installing a new kitchen and bathroom. We moved out of the flat for a month and have been living with my parents.
Parents are great, or at least my parents are great, but when you are 36 years of age, left home nearly two decades ago and have been used to independent living, suddenly being thrust back with your parents is less than ideal.
It hasn’t been great for them either. Cygnet and I make a noise and a mess. We get up early. We often wake in the night. We have our own little routine and it is not very flexible.
My parents and I have been standing on each other’s metaphorical toes. We have been disrupting each other’s routines. I know that aged 36, I need a room of my own.
So, now that we are back in our home, the Tesco shop has been delivered, the nightly clothes wash is on, we now have a dishwasher which makes my washing-up chores easier. I can linger in the bath, eat and drink what I like, and once Cygnet is in bed I can wander around the flat in my underwear listening to my podcasts.
I am no Virginia Wolf and I have different Feminist battles to fight but in this room of my own I can pour myself a glass of wine and get back on the blogging bandwagon.
I feel like it has been a long time. I have missed you.