I made a promise to myself as my plane touched down in Wellington (New Zealand’s diminutive but heavenly capital city) that I would be more organised. That there would be more structure to my life … and to my blog.
Part of this new leaf included documenting my move from the small island off the coast of Queensland, Australia, where I ‘d been living for the past year to Wairoa, a small town on New Zealand’s North Island.
But I hadn’t factored in Murphy’s Law, or being ‘slightly’ run over by a cab outside my hotel or getting food poisoning or stopping to realise I know no one in this beautiful albeit remote country.
Consequently, I seem to be less organised than I’ve ever been and my blogging continues to be a smorgasbord of nonsensical twittering. But it doesn’t matter because New Zealand rocks, and after only three days in the country I know it will provide me with endless material for blogging. It’s just so damn pretty.
And then it dawned on me that I will never have a structured blog; I will never have a target niche because that’s just not the way my brain works.
So instead of documenting my move to New Zealand, I woke at 5am, drove to the beach (note the black sand) and collected driftwood ‘til I was chased away by the angry barks of the disgruntled fur seals.