It’s back. It’s been gone for a while, but this week the “f” word came back with a vengeance. Yes folks, I’ve got The Fear. This is The Fear that comes when the diary is looking a wee bit blank, when the work has slowed down to a trickle after the raging torrent it’s been
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Category Archives: What’s the Word
Inspirational quotes do my head in, official. I might make an exception for Marx, Mahatma and Mother (Teresa). I bow down before the bountiful brainpower of Einstein, Steinbeck, Hemingway, Dorothy Parker et al. Sage utterances which have tripped from the lips (and pens) of the mighty are well worthy of consideration. We’ve all got a
I’m crap at commerce. Well, I must be, ‘cos growth is simply not the number one priority for the future of my small biz. For me, getting bigger don’t necessarily mean getting better. I should know. Physically, I personally got a lot smaller over the last year or so, and believe me, it feels way,
It swept over me this week. That sinking feeling. You know the kind, the gnawing sense that something’s really, really wrong. I’m not talking about losing the car keys or misplacing my specs, tho’ such activities may indeed occasionally upset the equilibrium of the Word Up world. No, I’m talking discombobulation, with bells on. But
The engine of this usually energetic entrepreneur is stuttering and threatening to stall, but I’ve just got to keep motoring. I’ve got to admit it, this wee wrangler of words is very nearly out of gas. My burgeoning business is going great guns but the operator is running on fumes. I’m whacked, knackered and a
Sshhhhhht! Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve got a confession to make. See, I’ve been completely and utterly undecided. No, not about the big vote, I’ve been completely and utterly decided on which box I will be placing my X in long since. Nope, the vacillation, the dithering and the procrastination causing all kinds of angst
Man the barricades, sisters, we’re talkin’ ‘bout a revolution round here. Never one to shy away from a righteous cause, or the advancement of womankind, I’m volunteering my services as a fully-paid up revolutionary. This will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows the paternal background of this particular sole trading adventurer and
Hate to say it, but hot flushes and hormonal heeby jeebies are happening ’round my house. (And BTW, I realise it’s a bit off the beaten path of small business chat to discuss an SME owning mother’s mid life matters. But if you’ve not got the biz balls for women’s troubles, you’d better shape up,
Pop the corks, hang the bunting high and hoist the mainsail, it’s my birthday! Well, not my birthday, dear knows I’ve banged on enough about my recent half century coming of age – at this rate I’ll need to join the ranks of the right royal, and have an official birthday as well as one
Forgive me fashionistas, but I’m all of a fankle. Being bang on trend just ain’t my bag, baby. Unless you count being hopelessly and happily stuck in some strange late 70s vortex where Fred Perry polos and Bass Weejun loafers are de rigeur, that is. See, for me, getting all dressed up just don’t feel
