Not a thing. My 'creative' brain, if I possess such a thing, has buggered off somewhere along with my sense of self worth. Serves me right for putting all my eggs in the one basket.
I've been on the slide again. For a long while I was busy with politics, totally absorbed more like, ever since the run up to the General Election last year. At that time I was full of optimism and was sure that rewards come just because you exert effort. I pushed lots of effort at the EU debate. I thought of almost nothing other than Europe for several months and talked and talked and talked.
Then came the Referendum result and I could NOT believe it, for days I wandered around this foreign land that used to be my country. It felt like those awful centripetal fairground rides they used to call 'The Wall of Death' where you spun round inside a big wooden drum. You'd go faster and faster then they dropped the floor away and you were pinned to the wall with emptiness below your feet.
Now after a lot of angst, big depressive waves and panic attacks I am coming round to deal with the new order.
I'm not giving up. I've invested a lot of emotional capital in this 'experiment' that Labour mps seem to think doomed to failure. Well it isn't. Mr Corbyn is still there and others like me are still supporting him. I still believe we can make good changes in this country; maybe our chances will even improve once the fairy-dust falls from Brexit eyes. Everything is up for grabs and it may yet all turn out for the best. But I need something else as well.
I must start writing again. I need my inner world functioning and giving me strands of ideas to play with. I need the discipline and the accomplishment of small goals.
So come back please Creativity, I have need of you and I'm truly sorry that I pushed you out of the door.
I will start some words this weekend. Dunno what yet, but I will stare at paper and try to see shapes form.