I know I should be dedicating myself night and day in the pursuit of becoming a writer, but I just can’t find my centre. I have become numb to the effects of anything around me, and despite being immersed in a culture in which I wanted to work for so long, I am finding it difficult to come up with ideas. Where before anything I came up with felt wonderful and original, now it feels like a been-done, old hat piece of non news. No matter, in the true nature of the English way, it shall be a case of onwards and upwards – writing through my writers block. And so I apologise to my phantom blog readers for there sometimes being nothing but drivel. If I cant get on my bike (in my case cross trainer) and lose a stone, then I shall at least write an entry a day to keep the brain cells alive (and have an excuse for being a fat-bottomed couch potato). Who knows, it might actually be fun...
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