I’m sitting writing this in real time in the Cafe Rouge at Kew Bridge – with a gorgeous view of what is one of my favourite views, Strand on the Green.(I must confess that I’m not exactly sure what ‘writing in real time’ means… it just sounds right somehow. It seems to express the fact that I’m sat here just typing directly into my blog without any real plan of what I’m going to say.)I feel also I should say for people who are converse with the tides at Strand on the Green, that this photo was taken on a different but equally sunny day when the tide was in. The tide is out at the moment, perfect for beachcombers and dog walkers.Blogging without a plan I’m actually a big planner. The trouble is I have so many notebooks, with so many plans, that I rarely have the notepad I need with me at the right time.So for example, just think what I’d achieve if I had my big fat Bloggers Planner with me right now in this cafe. You wouldn't be reading this waffle. Oh no. You'd be reading something planned. Something erudite, or insightful, or even just plain funny.Oh yes. The lovingly compiled content plans I have in my planner. The strict agenda which looks great on paper.
- Weekend round ups with fab photos on a Monday
- An outstanding review of something I’ve been sent or done on a Wednesday
- A bit of a personal blog on a subject I’m passionate about on a Thursday
- A review of a Chiswick coffee shop on a Friday
- A 5 mins with interview with a local interesting bod on a Saturday
- A round up of the last month’s books or films on a Sunday
Yes on paper it’s all very impressive and colour coded.It just rarely gets done.Because life just isn't colour coded is it?Phone batteries run out so you can't get take any at that wonderful sponataneous moment.There's a Day Job stress so instead of writing you have a large glass of wine after the boy is in bed, and chuck something on Netflix.You sit down to write a coffee shop review and realise that you don't actually care about coffee shops at that moment, you want to write about how you're scared you may not love London as much as you did last week (although you know this will pass and that this love/hate relationship with London is something that comes with, well…living in London.A dice with death and a bit of perspectiveOn bank holiday Monday we were heading back from the Midlands on the M1 and I was still a bit cross with myself that I didn't have any photos from our fun jaunt as my phone battery had run out. Chiswick Daddy had taken some, but I was thinking what a faff it would be to get them emailed to me and then upload them blah blah.When there was a sickening squelch of tyres and sparks flying.An idiot driver, or potentially one who was tired or drunk or has a momentary and potentially deadly loss of judgement, tries to undertake us when there is no room between us and the car in front.Chiswick Daddy slows down, but there is still no room for a car to squeeze in.The driver tries to undertake anyway, and has to come in at an angle as he realises his mistake. He loses control and spins across the lane, crashing sideways into the car in another lane.Another car coming from behind can’t break in time and smashes into them.Sparks fly.The original mad car ends up so out of control it drives over the hard shoulder and up the steep hill, revving. Sparks continue to fly as it speeds down again.How Chiswick Daddy stops us from being involved in this smash I have no idea. We should be hit. But he is always calm and clear headed.As it is we manage to set off again (or maybe we didn’t even stop… everything had gone into slow-mo), and I phone 999.We were all really shaken, including Chiswick Boy. Although he alternated between exclaiming on way home …
I’m so scared we’re going to be hit, can we stop.That was so cool, sparks flying, like a film. Awesome.
Of course we scoured websites for accident news that night and luckily it seems that no-one was critically hurt – one woman was trapped in her car but was freed and taken to hospital.
So there but for the grace of God go I.
It really reminded me of how fragile life is, and how much of it is outside our control. You can be driving down the motorway as careful as anything. But if someone else makes a mistake it could alter your life forever.
I don’t drive, and something like this does put me off driving. I know it’s silly someone my age being unable to drive, but even though learning to drive has been on my wish list for every year since I left university, I don't know whether I have the stomach or clear head needed for it.
So there you go – the week in a badly planned but thankfully alive and well parent blogger.
Now it's time to write a coffee shop review, an outstanding review of a sleep gadget someone sent me, look at my basal thermometer temping chart, do a round up of the books I've read, write something funny, do a Netflix round up, clean the house, write something erudite and serious, think about shaving my legs if I want to ditch tights at any point this weekend, publish some of the 5 mins with interviews that are in my in-box. Oh. And breathe.