Into the attic

Where to begin?

I suppose the question every new blogger asks themselves, followed closely by why the hell am I doing this and finally, will anyone bother to read?

To answer the second two, because I thought it would be good exercise for my mind now I am advancing in years and what is politely termed as perimenopausal ( and no I won't tell you how wrinkly I am, lets just say that every day I wake up and am thankful that everything hasn't headed south over night!) I hate crosswords and soduku and bridge, I've tried learning the piano only to find I have two left hands and so my daughters recommended a blog ( of course they had then to explain what one was!)

As for anyone reading, I'm not sure I care, in fact, like my teenage diaries I'll be slightly horrified if anyone does ( which is why this must be just our secret.....)

So, back to the main question, what to write about? The dusty corners of my attic, either physical or mental and what I find there appeals. I always had a frisson of excitement when Enid Blyton's children made their way to the attic of whichever castle they were staying in and found all sorts of exciting things as they opened the creaking lids of long forgotten trunks.

As for the scene in " A Little Princess" by Frances Hodgson Burnett where the drafty servants room Sara Crewe has been exiled to is transformed first by her imagination, then by unknown friends, it still has the power to make me weep copiously....

I hope my musings, if anyone does stumble upon them amuse/ touch/ interest them...and so, on to the main event!