What is it I am frightened of? I mine the depths of my psyche as I walk. It is simply fear of being found wanting? I’ve always had to battle through my fear when writing any application. That struggle of how to put oneself across on paper, in a few lines, enough to say give me a chance, I can do that. And the years haven’t helped, if anything they have made me more fearful. I could just not do it. I could go back to bed, take another walk, go for a coffee, read, sew, or just sit and stare. But I cannot. I must face this. Move into it. Do it. And the other one. I have to try. Even if the chances of anything coming of it are so slim. I need help. I need help to do it well.
The morning, so far, bodes well. A lovely pastel blue sky. There was an east wind as I walked but still it looks to be set fine. We sat on our bench yesterday afternoon. How I love the sun on my face. Glorious. Town was noisy this morning. All sorts of shouting and clamour coming from outside the Why Not? and Pier Pressure clubs. The seagulls,equally noisy, glide above the din. What do they make of it? Taxi cabs weave and glide along the streets, a busy hour for them.
Make a start and complete it by tomorrow. An open letter, outlining my skill and celebrating the diversity of my career to date. Five hundred words, two-fifty by the time we have to go to the supermarket and then another two-fifty when I return. I’m dog-tired again. A cup of tea then down to it. I will feel better when it’s faced, head-on. I promise.