I started off writing about Princess Diana, but then I figured I couldn't
say anything about her that hadn't already been said. Then I wrote about
Oprah Winfrey, but I didn't know enough about her. My mind then
shimmied from Boy George to Vera Duckworth but I still couldn't think of
anything funny or original. And so, I've been sitting here for over an
hour thinking of what to write about in this week's column. My
concentration has been so intense I've already chewed off the top of my
biro and I have blue ink all over my tongue. I then went onto a nice HB
pencil and ended up with wood chippings and lead in-between my
teeth.
I then thought perhaps I'd write about my day at work today but
nothing
exciting had happened, nothing out of the ordinary. Let's see... the
stationery delivery bloke came today and gave me that half-smile,
half-grimace he reserves especially for me, and OH LORDY! the
photocopier machine broke down again. All in all, a regular day at the
office. I started wondering if I should tell you about my weekend but I
decided not to embarrass myself by telling you that I went 10 pin
bowling on Friday night and fell over on the alley when I picked up the
wrong ball and couldn't let go of it when I tripped. My head almost
scored a strike. And, as I fiercely guard my private life, then I won't
tell you about the feet-up, hair-down, make-up off kind of day I had on
Sunday. I thought then I might critique a movie I've just seen but then
I remembered that the last time I went to the cinema was to see
"Grease", the first time around. And I couldn't possibly tell you about
the Valentine's surprise I have planned for my husband, because he reads
this column, and I don't want him to know.
When it got to this point, I
decided to make a trip to the kitchen for a
glass of wine and a cheese and pickle sandwich. For creative purposes,
of course. I brought it back to my desk and ate the sandwich with one
hand, while the other pressed buttons on the telephone, trying to make
it beep in tune to 'The Blue Danube'.
None of this helped matters, so I
picked up the pen again and started
doodling faces on the paper that should have been covered in words by
now, dismissing ideas in my head as too trivial, too personal, too
boring, too dreadful. I thought perhaps I might fill you in on the news
that we've sold our house and as the new one won't be ready for a few
months yet, I'll be homeless for 3 months in a matter of weeks. I
decided against that as being too domestic a subject.
I'm going to stick
it out. It's just a matter of coming up with the
right idea. All I need is a spark of inspiration from somewhere, a
clue, a sign. "Talk about the weather"
the husband says, and I chortle.
No, I'm going to stay here, drink my wine, and wait until my writer's
block disappears.
Glenda Young is also the authoress
of the
weekly Coronation
Street Update on the net, and can be contacted at:
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