Well blow me down, it's been a year.
A year since I started blogging.
A year and a bit since I finally, properly came out of my quite deep and dangerous depressive illness. I mark that from February 3rd last year when I went to a huge BBC party as the least prestigious of hundreds of BBC employees who'd won awards the previous year. I talked to Vanessa Feltz about the decor. I honestly did. I stood in a cloakroom queue with Gina McKee, Andrew Marr and that bloke off of Shoestring, whatsisname, Trevor Eve. I saw Stephen Poliakoff talking to the execs - presumably persuading them to move the Ten O'Clock News to accommodate his Friends and Crocodiles (just me and B or was it excruciating?). I saw David Walliams surrounded by women in a dark corner.
Where was I. Oh yes, the bloggerversary. Just like my first day blogging, I took Spike to his nursery, through sleet. Different nursery, same weather.
Plus ca change - Ova Girl's got a bun in the oven now - but c'est la meme chose - Paul Miller's off to Tokyo in the next few days, whence he was returning when I first read My London Life (I remember I was looking idly on the net for news of my old mucker Erica W) and thought, ooh, that looks interesting, that blogging lark.
They and others have been reading this from the beginning. I'm really very grateful for that, and for all the comments. Thanks.
Today I heard I'd been picked as Southwark Playhouse's nominee for 'The 50', a new writing bursary and mentoring project jointly initiated by the BBC and the Royal Court, as part of the Court's 50th birthday jamboree. Can't tell you how pleased I am about this. Am quite over the moon. Tom and Juliet at the Playhouse are responsible. What a nice bloggerversary present. I'm very lucky.