I'm trying, very trying.

I try to write something every day.

For no other reason, if you log on regular there is something no matter how banal at least you know I have not forgotten you.
I make it sound like I have thousands of followers, no, I have 25-35 hits a day, but I'm happy with that ( no delighted ). It's the same with Facebook and twitter, especially twitter. How anyone can keep track of more than say a hundred followers I don't know. No I much prefer a small family, I can keep an eye on them and read what's in their mind. I delete people after about three weeks if they bore me.
One of the people I follow is (and I hope he does not mind) Raymond Le blanc. I've never met him, but he's a mind engineer, a writer and he loves Leonard Cohen, that's enough for me. He also has a very interesting face, strong, no nonsense, always tells the truth sort of face. And he hustles.
I also follow an American female blogger called Nancy Wurtzel, she's been doing it for years. Awards, bling all sorts of things and she deserves it. She always writes crisp, neat stories and paints beautiful pictures with words. She only posts twice a week, but it's worth the wait.

Lost voice.

I woke on Monday, I had to be on the golf course by 9 which meant I had to be up and scrubbing by 7.45ish. Fiddle and dulcimer were fast asleep, who can blame them but I thought I'll ask them if they want a cuppa.
My voice was gone, I mean solid gone.
Tonight I've been out with Malcolm and got home my throat although not sore is still a bit raspy, but ever the optimist and not wanting to watch the Queen any more (I'm all queened out, yes some people have been waiting for that) I got the camera out again.
I'm thinking the more I do it on camera the better.
I think I may have recorded a couple of songs worth showing, I'm not sure, but maybe.
One of my problems of singing in front of the camera is I feel as though I maybe singing to thousands of people, If I post it on youtube and over 10 years it could get a lot of hits. That's when I clamp up, my fingers go to jelly, my mind forgets everything except to beat my heart, the blood stops running anywhere above my Adams apple. Anyway, I'll check it out tomorrow.