If only I knew what to write in my blog!

When Adam said he wanted me to write something on my blog every Friday, I told him that it would be easy peasy! Les doigts dans le nez (fingers in the nose) like we say in France.

"Pas de soucis" (no worries) I said to him... How hard can it be?

I come up with ideas all the time. As a matter of fact this is my problem: the number of things that come up in my head exceed the amount of times the hummingbird flaps its wings per second. I am actually convinced that I may be a non-diagnosed ADHD case. You know the kind that starts something and is distracted within a minute by something else. The kind that starts mopping the floor and would be found five minutes later making a necklace out of paper clips because she just found them while mopping the floor.

Ça me fait penser (that reminds me), has anybody got a pressure washer machine I could borrow? I found my car key on the floor while painting and realised that it had been parked under a tree for three months. Poor little car, it was covered with bird droppings. 

Mais revenons à nos moutons ( but let's come back to our sheep) like we say in France.

I was once again stuck in front of my computer wondering what would be interesting for my readers to read. Should I give them my mum's tomato sauce secret recipe? Nah, who would actually bother following it and have time to cook a sauce that takes three hours to be ready? Who would have time to sterilise the pots and stack them all very nicely in their cellar? Who has a cellar anyway?! I don't and don't know that many people who do here in England.

Or should I record a typical day in my life? From the minute I wake up to the minute I go to bed? Nah, not a good idea, I don't think the cameraman could follow me around. Not only wouldn't he have the stamina, he would probably lose hope when I ask him to try my paperclip necklace. Poor guy, at this point I would probably have forgotten about him and be painting my hallway... having found that the colour of my walls no longer matched my new shoes.

And just like that Mr Cameraman would go off into the sunset (wearing his new necklace I hope) wondering whether he chose the right career (poor little poppet). 

Argh I keep doing it again!

I get distracted and forget that I have to write something for my blog.

Au fait (by the way), I call my car petit pois (little pea) because of its colour and the fact it is tiny. You can imagine the state of that car! The little flying poohing buggers really went for it: they made real mushy peas out of her.