First off, this blog is going to feel like a confessional again, I haven't been writing as much as I know I should since losing the novel, but I think that it's understandable. I'm trying not to dwell on how horrendous it was, and how bad it mad me feel and blah blah blah, but it does sometimes feel like every time I pick up a pen (or set myself up with the laptop - you know, the figurative meaning of picking up the pen) I get lost in the feeling that this could so easily go missing, too, and that hurts. That is something really hard to overcome.
However:
I am happy that I made it home for Christmas this year - particularly because I made it home a few days early thanks to the Virgin Train strike that ended up being cancelled. I was able to work from home for a few days and that was actually quite nice - even when the dog was tapping my leg to let me know that he needed some attention.
I'm really happy that I didn't have to lug a case full of presents back to my parents' house whilst stressing as to whether people would like things (after hours of stressing in the shops when I bought the damn things) because I opted to buy charity presents instead. One of the other great things about that is that it's the person on the "receiving" end who looks bad if they object, however the best part is knowing that, despite the fact that there has been a lot of crap this year (and trust me, I know, it has often been overwhelming) it's not too hard to make things that little bit shinier, and there are a lot of people who will.
Realistically, this is probably going to my last blog of this year, so see you all in 2018. Catch you next year!
