Blogging... lack of

So, I would like to write more blogs, but I have no idea what to blog about.  I don't run all that often anymore due to a trick knee (although I did run 4 miles for the first time in ages last night); I really don't fancy smashing fencing and rebuilding it all that often and I can't think of anything else that interesting that I do.  I mean, who wants to hear about my work in IT support?  Occasionally something interesting occurs, but not so much I feel any great urge to write about it.  What else do I do?  I watch TV.  Who is interested in hearing my thoughts on Star Trek: Voyager?  I thought not.  I eat out with Sharon, but we're quite boring and go to a lot of the same places and eat a lot of the same things.  I go to the pub.  We rarely vary our routine and go to the same place and discuss a lot of the same things.  Don't get me wrong, it's immense fun, but I can't see it making for particularly good reading.  I am currently planning a wedding, well Sharon is and I'm chipping in on occasion.   Some people may be interested in that I guess, but do I want to share the details of my wedding with the world in general?  Not so much.  

So, what to write about?  I read a couple of people's columns in Sunday papers and they always seem to have something to talk about.  One of 2 things is happening in their cases: 

1. They have much more interesting lives than I.  
2. They are much better at thinking of something to write about from their dull lives and making it interesting than I.  

I'm thinking it's probably a combination of the two.

Conclusions.  I need to do one of three things:

1. Do more interesting things, so I can write about them.
2. Make a note of things as they are happening that may make interesting writing/reading as they are happening.
3. Continue to not blog very often.
4. I know I said three things, but I just thought of a fourth.  Randomly read other people's blogs on here and see what it is they write about.  It may lead to inspiration about my own life.

I have just quickly scanned a few people's blogs on here.  It turns out people are boring and interesting at the same time.  This bodes well.   From my quick random scan it appears that people blog about space; mountain biking; Michael Jackson; random doodles they have drawn; and in some cases they blog in a foreign language!?  Doesn't get me any further with ideas, but it does lead me to think that, who really gives a shit what I write about?  Not that many people (if any) will read it and as long as I enjoy writing it then all is cool.  Even Sharon doesn't read my blog.  She says, "What's the point?  I see you every day."  She says pretty much the same about why she never looks at my Facebook and why she never responds to my texts or emails...

The Saga Of The Fence...

So, I've been doing a lot of stuff in my garden of late.  Cutting back trees, weeding paths and mowing lawns and things.  This weekend I turned my attention to the front garden and something that has been doing my head in.  Round the edges of the lawn are little pebbles (pea-shingle I think my dad called it, but I could have just made that up.) When I strim the edges of the lawn, the cuttings go on the pebbles and are impossible to get off without sitting for hours picking up individual blades of grass.  And it looks shit with rotten dead grass there all the time.  I decided to move the pebbles from the edge to the main raised area at the front, which already has pebbles in.  But not quite enough and so you can see the lining in places.  The raised area is edged in by a small fence.  When I say fence, it is in fact one of those crappy ready-made things from B&Q with a couple of stakes at either end that are quite frankly useless.  The weight of the pebbles and earth had caused the fence to tilt forward.  I decided to straighten the fence.  Looked easy enough.  Rake the pebbles back, pull the fence up and hammer it back in straight.  Half an hour tops.  Half an hour later I was still struggling with the second panel, after giving up on the first as I was destroying the stake.  I would come back to that one.  With every blow of the hammer onto the block of wood I was using to protect the fence another bit of wood fell off the fence.  I was taking many steps backwards and the fence was looking many times worse than it had when I started.  Fortunately my dad decided to call round for an impromptu visit and spent 10 minutes laughing at me and my failure to straighten a small fence.  He then gave me tips on what he would do involving the words "wall" and "concrete".  As it's a rented house I can't really undertake major building operations like that, nor would I like to spend that much money.  The landlady has given me permission to make minor improvements to the garden, as I have been doing, but only to tidy it up and get rid of anything which is obviously dead, shit or overgrown.  When my dad left I decided to carry on with trying to just get the fence back to how it was.  Things did not go to plan.  The next thing I knew half the fence was on the floor in pieces and I was hitting it with a spade.  A spade that slipped out of one hand and rebounded into my arm leaving a rather nice lump and bruise.  Of course, this didn't improve my mood much and quickly led to the rest of the fence joining it's deceased brethren.  After the dust settled and Sharon deemed it safe to return, we stood looking at the place the fence used to be and a place that quite obviously needed a fence to be there again.  Sharon disappeared into the house and returned with my car keys.  We were going to B&Q.  We returned a short time later with some decking.  The cheapest wood known to mankind.  I assume it must grow naturally and abundantly in routed and treated planks, because how else can they afford to sell in for less than £2 a plank? 

So, I was going to build a fence.  Seemed simple enough.  Hammer in stakes and screw planks of wood to the stakes.  The planks are 2.4 metres long and the hole 4 metres.  A 2.4 metre and 1.6 metre run was called for.  I measured and cut everything and hammered in the stakes.  All the time I could sense the time marching on.  The quick job of moving a few pebbles, followed by sitting in the garden drinking beer in the sun had completely gone out of the window.  It was now build a fence and get it done before tea so we could maybe go to the pub after tea.  My mood had not improved much.  But it turns out that anger is quite useful when hammering stakes into the ground and it was a temporary release.  I got the 2.4 metre run up in no time.  I got the first plank on for the 1.6 metre run and the battery went on my electric screwdriver.  With the battery went my will.  Plus Sharon was making tea.  I decided to call it a day and resume on the morrow.  I was knackered.  It had taken me all afternoon to get nowhere.  Pub didn't happen.  Mood and tiredness meant it was a no-goer.

Sunday morning.  Up and breakfast ate.  Outside for 10 o'clock with a newly charged screwdriver and, more importantly, newly charged will.  It was raining, but that wouldn't stop me.  The old dear next door shouting "Get that job done before it rains" as she left for church spurred me on.  I quickly screwed the rest of the planks into place and announced the job completed.

Or was it?

As I had done a 2.4 metre and 1.6 metre run, it looked like two fences side by side.  Probably because it WAS two fences side by side.  That niggled me.  Mainly because it looked a bit shit.  If I overlapped the planks, doing long, short; short, long; long short, it would have a much better effect and would look like one fence.  It would also be stronger. It would require a couple more stakes, but that wasn't a problem.  I bought another stake and set about making the quick change.  Surely it was a simple job this time.  Just swap the middle two planks round.  Job done.  I took the middle two planks off and set about it.  They wouldn't go in the space.  Why won't they fit!?  Anger was rising again.  But I suppressed it and set about the task practically rather than emotionally, which had fueled the work the day before and obviously hadn't worked out too well.  As it was technically two fences, and they weren't quite level with each other, I couldn't botch it.  I tried removing the top planks but it still didn't help.  Basically I had started on uneven foundations and it had made the entire job a botch.  Self doubt and laziness set in.  I was a heartbeat away from putting it back as two fences and calling it a day, but renewed motivation struck.  I thought, if I put the botched one back together, every time I look at it I will think, "I could have done that better".  So I decided to do it better.  I dismantled the entire thing and started again.  This time using a spirit level, rather than just my eye.  Things went much better doing the job properly, with the correct tools and a clear head.  In what felt like no time at all I was nearing completion.  The battery went on my screwdriver again.  It had been a hard weekend for the poor little thing.  Even this would not stop me though.  I continued with a normal screwdriver and soon the job was complete.  I stood back and looked and for the first time all weekend was happy with what I saw.

Here enduth the saga.  Did I learn anything?  Don't hit a fence with a spade was the main lesson learnt.  Ouch! Don't cut corners was another.  In the long run you'll only end up having to do it properly anyway, so it won't actually save time.  I keep peeking out of the front window to look at my fence.  I think I love it all the more because of how much hard work it was.  Admittedly, hard work I created for myself.  Because when it actually came down to it, and I did the job properly, it wasn't a particularly big or difficult job.  Ah well.  I'm still proud of my little fence and the weekend it enveloped.

I never did move the pebbles...