Pretending

Yesterday evening it rained. Then it rained some more. Streams formed in the streets and gardens, and a fountain sprang from the drain at the bottom of the hill. Boys danced in the streams wearing only their underpants. The cat stayed indoors.

We sat inside, sipping wine left over from our hosts' wedding, listening to the rain. One by one, more of us arrived until there were no spare seats. Some of us sat on the floor.

With the window open wide behind me, I breathed cool evening air. As the rain grew heavier, I pulled the window to to keep the splashes out; as it slowed down, I opened it wide to let the cat out.

We talked until late, of making wine, of holidays past and holidays to come, of Monday evenings with friends.

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I talk of trying something new; of being afraid of failing, but putting myself forward anyway; of how life is for living, and how we should not stagnate; of following dreams. I dive headfirst into new projects knowing that I will not succeed; I know that if I do not try, I will never succeed. I pick myself up and try again. I aim to be relentless, and sometimes I am just that.

I do not mind the failing, really. Everything is as it is. It will be as it will be. It is all right in the scheme of things; it will all come right in the end.

This blog is an experiment - I want to see if I can write. It is also a tool - I know bad writing when I see it, and shall learn from these early posts.

Be patient, my non-existent readers: the standard of writing here has to improve. There is no other way for it to go.

Also, please stop laughing. I appear to have got my head stuck up my bottom, but snickering is not going to help me to get it out.