Go Slow

This morning I stopped to get my phone out of my bag on the way to work, in case I saw anything blipworthy. How fortunate that I stopped right by this wall! We have beautiful local snails in Gloucestershire: this is the brown -lipped snail.

The snail's  progress caused me to think of my own journey  on Blip. I've been around for almost 12 years (started 15 July, 2012, with a bowl of porridge. Just call me Goldilocks!) but only have about 11 years'worth to show. Doubt if there's been much in the way of improvement, but I keep on coming back. 

It must be the community that draws me. (And my over- exaggerated  sense that social historians may one day be interested in the ramblings of a 21st century woman in Gloucestershire). So, thank you, all of you for your comments and stars and for all the friendships I've made and kept up, even though not everyone's blipping any more. The camaraderie remains. 

Missed another day yesterday because I had wall to wall activities: a networking event hosted by the hospice (Steve and I went astray in the back lanes on the way there); an afternoon mental health meeting on Teams for which I was woefully unprepared; visitors arriving at 4; final memoir writing course; football match on TV; way too much food to eat!  And rain. And more rain. 

Today is less rainy. I've been for a meeting in the cupboard, worked from home, ordered a clock for the cupboard on eBay ( I asked the manager to get us one and she got a horrible grey digital thing that doesn't look friendly: it has no face) and generally faffed around. Comrade S is still very poorly following CoVid. Comrade A's son in Kent has CoVid, this jeopardizing her holiday next week. I'm getting those summer of '21 vibes about CoVid: if you haven't got it, you almost certainly know someone who has. Keep sanitising, folks! Mine's a rhubarb and Tonka hospital grade sanitiser. Sounds good enough to drink!