I start these things with the best of intentions, but I lose interest in them and want to read instead, usually.
I started this blog with the best of intentions - I wanted to write something new at least once a fortnight. Did that happen? Did it fuck. I've written four posts and a few recipes in the last few years.
But I cannot be blamed for this terrible lack-of-interest-in-things-that-I-am-originally-super-excited-about.
You see I have a curse upon me.
It is an old family curse. I know not when it began, or how far it goes back, (generations, I guess) but I know it was passed down to me from my father.
Legend has it that (it's not legend, it's actual fact, taken from my memory) when I was ten my mother was pregnant with my youngest brother. My father decided to make this new child of his a beautiful handmade wooden rocking horse. And so he did... Except... He never got around to putting rockers onto the horse, or painting it. So it was only ever used as a seat, pretty much. My youngest brother is now 24 and that wooden horse is now headless, and rotting in the garden. My father probably still plans to finish it one day.
In addition to the unfinished horse, my father has also unfinished plenty of other wooden things, as well as two conservatories, (yes, two, there are two unfinished conservatories on his house), several fish ponds, some small gardens (he has lots of land to unfinish things on) and I'm sure there are many more things but I can't think of them right now.
He has also finished plenty of things, so thankfully it's not all doom and gloom and half made wood turning.
So you see, in comparison, my unfinished things seem very small compared to the sins of my father. I know I will need to keep an eye on myself, lest my small unfinished things grow larger. Although I do not think they will ever grow to a conservatory size.