Ground to a halt.

It would appear that apart from my daily journal which I write by hand in a notebook my attempts at writing have ground to a shuddering halt.
My poetry sits neglected in the office upstairs and in a variety of small notebooks dotted around the place, a series of half-started stories sit weeping alone in said office or on Google Drive whilst poor old Bob West and his lovely wife languish somewhere in the mid-West of the USA waiting for my instructions. Even this blog has sat alone in bars staring morosely at its drink wondering what went wrong with it's relationship with me.
So what to do? Step one I guess is what I'm doing now, rescuing my poor blog from its lonely existence and writing something on it.
Step two is get the poems going, step three, sit down over the weekend and get poor old Bob on the move. As to the rag-bag of other stories and tales, they will have to wait their turn until Bob has reached a good stopping point. His tale is a series of short stories so I should be able to finish the first one; he just got married and discovered his wife was pregnant so that would be a good place to finish this part of his life. The baby can be born and I'll revisit him when they have settled down a bit and start a new episode.
In the meantime I'll see what I can rescue from the wreckage of all the others and maybe get a one-off done. Since this weekend is not looking too clever for gardeneering I may as well get going again with my literary aspirations and share that with having a clear out in the spare room.
I shall return next week with an update.
Until then, Peace and Love. ttfn x