up and away

hot air balloon from underneath
Once again, I’ve sat down at the computer today without any ideas about what to write. My suitcase is lying on the sofa behind me, too full for me to close it; my desk is almost hidden under an assortment of papers, cables and chargers, and shoes and sandals are liberally scattered across the floor. So far, none of the work stuff or shoes are in the case, which is a wee bit worrying, and nor is my ticket among the papers.

There is clearly still a lot to do if I am to catch my train in a couple of hours time.

So I’ve found an eight-year-old photo which fits well with the idea of travel, as well as being fairly topical – it was taken at the Bristol Balloon Fiesta in 2005. (Why do I have a complete set of 2005 photos on my laptop? Might this tendency to hoard give an insight into why my case won’t shut?) This year’s festival starts on Thursday.

Now I must fly. Though not in a balloon.

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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