It’s New Year’s Day, so if I intend to continue with my aim to update this blog at weekends and on public and bank holidays, I’d better find something to post.
I should probably clarify that that isn’t a New Year’s resolution, it’s just something I’ve been trying to do for the last few years. But blogging takes time and commitment and doesn’t reap much of a reward. I’ve been writing here for ten years now and there are nearly twelve hundred posts – more posts than followers! – including heaven knows how many original poems and photographs.
When one recent post took me several hours to construct, a friend asked why I spend so long writing something simply to give it away. But I don’t do as much creative writing as I used to – and definitely not as much as I’d like to – and keeping the blog going is a good habit to remind myself that I am still a writer. At times it also acts as a kind of commonplace book or journal where I can keep some notes of thoughts and ideas that may eventually get turned into something more polished.
At the moment I don’t have anything new to post so, like the young lad immortalised in bronze in a park in Leamington Spa, I am scanning the horizon for ideas. At least I am doing so from the comfort of an armchair rather than astride a circus elephant.
And now I have scanned the horizon so far I seem to have looked right round to the past and remembered one of my very earliest poems – written sometime in the early 60s. One of the joys of doggerel is that it is easy to remember, so here’s the first verse:
The elephant is very big;
It looks like a gigantic pig.
I’d hate to keep one as a pet:
think what a bill you’d get from the vet!
Let’s hope I manage something a little more mature and inspired in 2018!