No excuses.
No apologies. No promises. I have simply been living my new life and
have neglected my writing. Not that said living has been the cause of
said neglect. Rather, I just haven’t
bothered to write as much as I used to, and life goes on.
Like many, I write when inspiration to do
so strikes. For some, that is more often
than others, and for me it is at times sporadic.
Now that my ‘new’ expat adventure is
becoming less new, and now that I am edging closer to becoming truly settled in
the UK, I even caught myself pondering:
Does an expat
blog die a natural death?
I am not going to answer this question for
others, for myself, or even today. There
is no ‘one size fits all’ answer. I
suspect that if I challenge myself to write more regularly, I will still have
much to say, and I have much yet to explore of expat life, as two and a half
years is hardly old hat.
I write for me, for love of writing, for
catharsis, for family, friends, or for anyone who wants to know. Though I write for no specific audience, I am
always happy if anything I share can make the smallest difference to another,
even if by nothing more than an occasional laugh or glimmer of recognition.
And so it goes …
today.
