Take this new website, for example. I have been thinking, 'Crumbs! This could be like having another full-time job. I want to update bits of it every day, but what on earth can I put on it?' It's a bit, I thought (see....told you - 'Thinking Week') like moving from a small caravan that can be kept neat and tidy with a quick wipe around with a damp cloth twice a week, to a proper house, with lots of rooms that need dealing with everyday or debris, dust and cobwebs will start building up. It's all very well having extra space - letting it all hang out, so to speak - but it needs an investment of time.
Also, I am trying to get to grips with the whole 'Editing a website' thing. It's actually more straightforward than I imagined, but I have to do it on my desk top which is the tortoise to my I-pad hare (where I could whip up an blog post in a matter of minutes), so there is much sitting and sighing and staring at the screen whilst my computer decides a) if it likes what I am typing and will deign to put it on the screen and b) whether it will add a frisson of excitement by suddenly deciding to update/ slow down even more/ randomly disconnect itself from the Universe as we know it and make everything I am working on vanish, in the works of Percy from 'Blackadder' like an old oak table. But at the moment it is behaving itself so perhaps I should hush my mouth.
Thus there has been a lot of thinking about website content. I am wondering if I ought to start writing a novel. I could be a bit like Charles Dickens, serialising a tome for the masses once a week maybe. And I have three embryonic novels that I rather like but am unsure whieh to continue with in earnest and maybe some reader feedback would be good. I have no idea why I chose a comparison with Charles Dickens. For a start, I find his writing irritatingly repetitive (but then such is the nature of a serialisation -'In last week's episode, Murky Barkwith was sent to the poorhouse to purchase for the household of Sir Branston Pickle an unfortunate child small enough to scour the chamberpots.') And also, I do not have beard. Andy once put a sample of my writing into an app which compared it to famous writers writings and told you who you most wrote like. Rather distressingly my writing was compared to Ernest Hemingway. Less distressingly, Toni Morrison. Personally, I think I need to write like me.
And of course I have been thinking a lot about food. There is nothing like your husband deciding to lose 5 and half stones in a year to make you think a lot about food. Especially when he is continuing his campaign to prepare an entry into next year's 'Great British Bake Off' and did a practice bake this week involving the production of some flipping fantastic muffins weighing in at 413 calories a pop. Good grief! It's like double jeopardy round here at the moment, but nonetheless and against all odds I have lost 3lbs. This is nothing to Andy's achievement but I shan't spoil his blog (over there - to the right - have a look - it is very funny) by revealing his first week's loss, mostly because he is going to do weigh-ins every ten days and not every week.
Right - I am now off to another part of the website to write reviews about two books I have read this week. I feel they ought to go in the Much Malarkey Manor Library, but the library hasn't been built yet so they might have to go into 'Novels' or 'Short Stories' or I might have to wait until Andy gets home from work and demand he build me a Library IMMEDIATELY, poor chap.