Apologising, speaking French, overstating my own importance and other blunders

Well, hello there.

I feel that I owe you a little apology. A while ago I was told by someone reasonably influential to never apologise for sustained periods of non-blogging, as it’s not my job (so taking a break is my prerogative) and it also seems to rather overstate the importance of this little narcissistic exercise I call lifestyle blogging (so it’s entirely possible – peut-ĂȘtre* probable for that matter – that nobody noticed or cared anyway).

But all the same. This may not be my job but I’m committed enough to feel guilty, and if nobody cares then this isn’t going to affect anything. So I’m sorry for the radio silence. There’s no story, no excuses, nothing of interest at all – I was just tired, and uncreative, and bored (of myself!) These things happen.

Life happening without diarising.
Life happening without diarising.

Interestingly, I took a break from all blogs, not just writing this one. I follow a small amount of cool people. Usually. For the last few months I have not, and now I have forgotten my BlogLovin password…no doubt I’ll start again but in the meantime I have literally no idea what anyone’s been up to. I presume they’re all good?

So here’s the bit where I should be updating you on what’s been going on, but you know what? I’d rather talk about what’s coming up. Far more exciting. We can get to what’s been going on later. Because…drum roll please…in less than four weeks my husband is coming home FOR GOOD**.

This guy!
This guy!

I have missed him like my cat misses his food the second he’s finished eating it. That same feeling of intense sadness, coupled with the world-weary certainty that although one will indeed eat again (or see one’s husband again) it is so far away as to be almost unimaginable. At least, I think this is what the cat is doing when he spends the evening returning to his empty bowl and pawing at it pitifully, over and over again. My equivalent is my phone. I check it constantly, just in case H1′s sent a message. Even when it’s the middle of the night in New York. Even when I’m with other people. I’m THAT friend now. You know, the rude one.

So you may not be surprised to learn that I just cannot wait. Sometimes I remember in odd places (the bus, sitting in a cafe by myself) or inopportune moments (meetings with important people, talking to shop assistants) and all I can do is grin like a simpleton. It’s genuinely unstoppable. And wildly unnerving for the strangers who have the misfortune to be around me, I dare say.

And in that magic way he has, the near full-time presence of my husband has made me feel like blogging again. So there you are. And here I am, although most likely in a sporadic and esoteric way (see, no promises, so I don’t have to decide in future whether you care for my apologies or not…)

 

*A bit of casual French wankiness…in my defence I do actually speak the language, not just socialite French. Plus, I liked the alliterative effect.

**Usual business trips excepted, etc.

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