It’s work’s fault, of course. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying it, but I’ve really had to hit the ground running. All these bank holidays, the recent nice weather and the slow build-up of the summer season have all conspired to make me rather work-focused, to the detriment of the rest of my life.
However, as I don’t want this blog to degenerate into a sequence of bitter rants about the life of a chef, I’ve decided not to post about what’s happening to me at the moment in my everyday life. You don’t want to read about my irritating commis or our ongoing quest for a reliable KP. Nor, I suspect, do you want to read self-pitying whining about my mental health and my husband’s seemingly interminable bankruptcy proceedings. It’d be like a really depressing “real lives” section from Closer! magazine.
In lieu of actually writing substantial posts, what I’ve been doing is jotting down ideas for future blogposts, to be written when I regain some energy and motivation (i.e. September). Aside from things I’ve already set up and need to continue (like the conception of Lugus thing), I’m plotting a few posts about some of my favourite languages, both real and invented: Dalmatian, Romansh and Romani on the one hand, Tailancan and Dravean on the other. A post about oaths and oathbreaking in the context of ritual purity (were it an article for publication, I’d title it something grand like “Towards a Celtic reconstruction of miasma”). Something about Romance philology and why I find it quite so fascinating. Maybe a few recipes. Some anecdotes about my time as a drunken, drug-addled bacchant. I’m not sure yet. I wouldn’t expect anything soon, however, as I really don’t know when I’m going to wake up on a day off with sufficient energy to get dressed before three, let alone actually write anything.