I’m not a poet

Imposter syndrome ‘the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one's own efforts or skills.’

Loads of people experience this imposter syndrome. I know I did at some periods of my life. Then I came across a TV programme, Handmade: Britain’s Best Woodworker. Some of the woodworking skills were, at the very best, poor or is it that I’m getting old and grumpy.

I’m slowing down now. Good sleep still eludes me but my extreme fatigue doesn't. I think that’s why my posts are becoming fewer and farther between. The long diatribes and the wittering of a bloke who’s on a slipperier slope than most will hopefully not grind to a complete halt. I’ll do what I can.

I’m a bit of a story teller but I wouldn't call myself one. If I were a poet I could probably, and more eloquently, take you on a journey to some of the places my head’s been, but alas I’m not. I write all this stuff, not because I’ve had something to share, but it’s given me time to reflect and time to remember.

A gift that not everyone is given.

So back to the imposter syndrome, I can finally call myself a woodworker. Thanks Channel 4.

My consultant told me I’m like a fine old clock, gradually running down with no way of winding me up again. I’ll take that.

I’ll post bits and pieces, as and when I feel up to it.

Don’t worry, there’s nothing sinister happening here.

Felicitations to you all.