Forgotten things

I have been thinking back over the last week or so, and what I have entered here, and I realised that I had missed a few things: it bothered me in the way that this blog is in part a diary of my time here in Falmouth, I want it to be a part of my memories here, and so I want to put record my experiences. Thursday last week (the 22nd November) for instance, I went to my first Thanksgiving party. It was hosted by an American friend on the course, and most of us went along. Not without some misgivings on my part anyway: Thanksgiving is something I was a little uneasy about; having in mind images of the Pilgrim Fathers and what subsequently happened to the Native Americans. However, what it turned out to be was a meeting of friends; a very social event and another chance to discover each other away from the course. It is in America a family holiday, and perhaps more considered than Christmas. Our Falmouth Thanksgiving was unique and was about our friendship, fun, music from all those who play instruments and because a good majority of us are vegetarians (I'm a very bad vegetarian as I eat fish, and have leather boots) quorn turkey sandwiches and mushroom roast. Delicious.
There seems to be a theme running through these entries. Another permutation of the blog, a diary and an exploration of what happens. A dominant theme seems to be food - recipes, lack of, too much. I'm sure I don't think that much about food. Or maybe I do. Since losing weight, which now seems to be a defining feature of my life, it has become something I'm more thoughtful about. Since becoming a student again, it has also had to be carefully budgeted for, and I have once again become expert at making the most of very little: using up odds and ends in soup, entirely giving up ready meals and being constantly on the hunt for reduced items. I like the challenge.
Writing this blog, still very self-consciously, I feel like it has evolved from being purely an exercise form to a diary of sorts, to a theme, to my train of thought, and round again. It emerges each day differently, and still has no recognisable form. Maybe that doesn't matter though. Maybe too much time and thought can be spent introverted, worrying about what is being written. Perhaps all that needs to be said is that this is now a feature of my life; something that I do; another group I have joined - those who write blogs. It is still an identity I am settling into and exploring.