Two months - that's how long I've been 'resting' and 'taking time out' from contracting. It feels far longer.
I'm also at a loss to understand what I have done with those two months. Apart from worry about Joe. And help Stu make a fence. Built a website. Browsed Iceland websites. And have a tattoo. Oops. Just casually threw that in there. Yep. I finally plucked up the courage. I am now the proud owner of a sore arm. Which I am fastidiously bathing in warm soapy water and moisturising regularly. I have pondered the idea of a tattoo for years. This was no snap decision. I decided on what I wanted years ago. A bluebell. For very personal reasons. Anyway. It's done. In a place that can be hidden for work. Though it did dawn on me in the middle of the night that I can never work in the summer again. As clearly short sleeves won't work! You'd have thought that I would have thought of this before - given the length of time I have been working the idea through in my obviously cottonwool brain. But - I've done it. And I am not going to be ashamed or worried about people seeing it. I am going to own my arm. I've come out of the tattoo closet. And here it is... (looks WAY larger than it is in real life)
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DebbieMe, my life, my family and my travels Archives
November 2022
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