I heard a piece of music on the radio today which is one of my favourites: Corelli's Concerto grosso no. 8, or to give it the other name, the Christmas Concerto. It is a sublime piece of music and one I have loved for a very long time. So long, in fact, that it was my music of choice for my wedding. As Oscar pointed out in the car as we were driving somewhere and I was singing along (or rather humming badly), 'but you never got married, did you?' Thanks for reminding me. He did make it sound as though I had endured some wedding aisle catastrophe from which I had never recovered. But no Miss Haversham dusty white dress hysterics for me - no, I never got that near a church because nobody ever asked me to marry them. It does seem silly now to have thought so much about something that never happened but I don't think it has left me needing any long term therapy. Dreaming is essential though and as we did our 'trick or treating' last night, I did find my attention wandering from ensuring the children said 'happy Halloween' and 'thank you' at appropriate points during the evening to admiring the beautiful homes we were on the doorstep of. I could have a home like that, with beautiful tiles and lovely vases, I found myself thinking. Thankfully, my sensible self was quick to point out that if I had a spare couple of million, yes, I probably could have a house like that but shouldn't I be thankful for what I did have rather than dreaming about what I hadn't? Dreaming is wonderful as long as you remember the limits. Otherwise it just serves to make you feel hard done by and miserable.
Talking of dreaming, I'm still attempting that novel and as it is now NaNoWriMo once again, I was up at five this morning to chug out three quarters of an hour on something, anything which might merit further attention at the end of the month. I am going to indulge in some 'free writing' which hopefully will spark something interesting and even if it doesn't, will enable me to just write every morning with no fixed agenda and therefore no possibility of blocking or failure in the first instance. It was quite liberating finishing mid-sentence when my phone alarm went off to tell me to stop.
Every day should have a few points where there are some missing full stops. That's when the dreams creep in.