MONDAY

Style Guru.

It’s no good.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do trendy hair.  It’s too high-maintenance and annoying.  In the winter, fed up with flat, droopy look, I told my fabby hairdresser to ‘freestyle’.  She did.  I ended up with an asymmetric bob.  I love it…and I hate it at the same time.  It’s my midlife crisis haircut.  Some people have an affair or buy a sports car.  I got an eighties undercut.  I love it because I look younger; it feels ‘edgy’…and I hate it because no matter what goo I shove in it or how I blow-dry it, it gets in my flippin’ face all the time and drives me potty.  I mostly resort to a Kirby-grip to keep my fringe out of my eyes like a 1920s shopgirl. 

It’s not the hairdresser’s fault.  She does an amazingly artistic job with a terrible canvas.  I just have Silly Hair.  I inherited it from my father.  It’s really thin, flyaway, and dead, dead straight.  I fantasise over how wonderful it would be to wake up one morning with a mass of uncontrollable, long, curling ringlets.  Instead, I have a hairdo that, if left to its own devices, would not look out of place on a Lego person.  If I was brave, I’d do the full Sinead O’Connor and have the lot off, but I’ve got a head like a baked bean and look quite daft enough without being bald as well.  Fabby hairdresser coming tomorrow.  She’ll roll her eyes and despair, but I shall be waving goodbye to trendy and going back to practical pixie.  It’s boring, but a lot less hassle.

TUESDAY

Rubberlicious.

I couldn’t get a wetsuit in time for my doggy-kayaking adventure, so a friend kindly donated an old one of his.  It’s a man’s wetsuit, and I’m a smallish woman, but getting the thing on still resembles a challenge from one of the more sadistic Japanese game shows. 

Most wetsuits I’ve ever encountered unzip down the back, you step in, and zip them up again using a long drawstring.  Not this one.  The designers of this beauty decided it’d be much more effective to enter through the neck hole...?  It therefore unzips across the chest from shoulder to shoulder. Although it was a few sizes too big for me (and once in, there was room to spare), donning it for a ‘dry-run’ reminded me of going shopping with only one bag, and trying to cram three bags’ worth of stuff in regardless.  It involved a lot of shoving, tugging, bouncing, and much hysterical giggling.  By the time I’d got it on I was absolutely exhausted, and then had to perform a contortionist routine to get it off again.  Should have filmed it.  It would have gone more viral than a comedy cat video.

WEDNESDAY

Pond Life.

Listened to a piece on the radio about how natural water sources are declining in the South East of England because of our now-frequent droughts and the lack of pools and ponds in modern gardens.  The expert being interviewed said it didn’t need to be big, or fancy, or stocked to the gunnels with pricey koi-carp – but simply provide a place for insects to congregate, small mammals and birds to drink, and greater biodiversity to thrive.  In the shed the other day, my wandering gaze fell on an old planter shoved in the back when I repotted a tree.  Too good to throw away, but too big to easily fill with alternative planting, I decided to do my bit and turn this container into a sunken natural pool in a quiet corner of my little garden.  A great deal of digging later, I’ve stocked it with a couple of oxygenating plants, placed some shade-loving foliage around it, and I’m going to sit back and see what turns up for a sunny afternoon splash.

THURSDAY

Listless.

Let the dog out this morning and disturbed a gaggle of little birds drinking, chirping, and bathing in my nature pond.  Delighted it’s already doing its job.  Was worth the backache digging the hole.

Continuing the birdy theme, I’ve decided to go back on twitter.  Used to be on it years ago when I was freelancing, but came off when I gave up work to nurse my Dad – I found I had nothing ‘relevant’ to say.  Now, I have something to promote again, so thought I’d give it another crack.  Wonder whether I’ll be able to squawk loud enough to be heard above the general cacophony?

Feel listless.  Want to leave and start my new life NOW.  I don’t want to have to wait, but know I must.  I can’t do anything, can’t plan anything, can’t prepare anything – it’s too far in the future.  However, not so far ahead that there’s much point doing anything here I’ll promptly have to ‘un’-do in order to leave.  Limbo-land.  A frustrating non-existence just marking time.

Have done a bunch of new advertising on Amazon.  Honestly, by the time you’ve got your head around Sponsored Products, Manual Targeting, Default Bids, and Cost Per Click, you deserve an Honourary Doctorate in Marketing.  Oh, for a lovely traditional publisher to do all this crap for me – and with a significantly bigger budget too!  Advertising is annoying, time-consuming…and necessary.  If no one knows you exist…?

FRIDAY

Eat yer heart out, Sinatra.

My sensation of listlessness dealt me a hefty confidence-wobble.  I feel as if nothing I do works, and I’ll never get where I want to be.  Distracted myself with social media – usually never a good idea when you’re feeling a bit fragile – but found it surprisingly encouraging.  Couldn’t believe the amount of oft-recycled, misspelt, second-hand content clogging my feed.  I felt a little burst of certainty.  Whatever people think of me and what I do, my content is 100% original; 100% me.  The pictures I share are pictures I’ve taken.  The thoughts and opinions are mine alone. 

Who was it that said, “The best advice I’ve ever been given is no one else knows what they’re doing either.”

I need to stick by what I believe in…and do it myyyyy waaaayyyyy!!

Annie Holder writes pacey thrillers, twist-filled crime novels, and unconventional romances – set all over the world.

You can find out more about her books at www.annieholder.com, and follow her on Instagram www.instagram.com/alhwriter/