Where does the time go?

I can't believe it's a week since I last blogged. Of course, I have been busy terrorising children for the last week. Not, I might add, by lurking down an alleyway with a bag of sweeties and a pad of chloroform going "Come here, little girl", but by poncing around on stage dressed in a big black frock and scary black wig and occasionally shouting "Oh, no I didn't". Much to my gratification, in every performance but one there were at least two small children that had to be evacuated to the bar and were too afraid to come back in! For the baddie, that's a result!

The older I get, the more I don't know where the time goes. Perhaps it is an indication of age that time passes more quickly the less you have of it left, although I am very hopeful that I have several more decades still to go. I can well believe it when oldies say that they have never been so busy since they retired; I have just had five days off and I can't think how I have passed the time (except for the evenings, when obviously I do know where I was - see above).

It is scary to think that panto is over for another year and I now have to start thinking about what I want to direct next year. I am being nagged by the Player's committee for my choice, and I haven't had five minutes - or so it seems - to even think about it. I am going to have to force myself to work on it in the evenings and if I want to finish writing something, I am going to have to work on the train. I did do something this evening but all I have done is decide what I had already written is not good enough and started again virtually.

There seems to be so much to do, quite honestly I don't have time to go to work. I could quite happily spend all day doing Operatic Society work, learning lines for 'Midsummer Night's Dream', working round the house, writing rubbish like this and painting what I optimistically call ' abstract art'. I firmly believe I have at least one novel in me, probably a bodice ripper, and I have several more panto scripts to write.

What I really need is a moderate lottery win, enough to pay off the bills and to stop work and allow me to do all of this at leisure. I'm sure I could make some pin money out of it and get a lot more satisfaction than doing what I do now. If you write for a living, you can do it from anywhere there is an internet connection so perhaps I could get broadband put in by OTE in Crete and work from our apartment there. I wonder whether all that Cretan sunshine would affect my mood? Of course I'd miss The Hubby, but I could pop back and see him from time to time when I had to come back to London to see my publisher. My publisher - doesn't that sound grand!

For the moment, it's all a pipe dream. Too many mortgages, too many children and too many responsibilities. But in time, it's an achieveable dream and I too, intend to be busier as I get older doing more of the things I want to do. And I'll keep writing - I like it!