Funny stuff

I was reading someone else's blog, who took this course last year, and realised that my own effort seems quite dull in comparison. I haven't put much variety into it. Not much humour has come through, even though there has been lots that I've laughed at - certain people's obsessions with blood and heaving bosoms being one thing... It comes down I think still to my own self-consciousness at writing this. I'm more relaxed about putting my thoughts down into an open arena, I think. What I didn't set out to do, which I think some people have , is to create a persona. What is written is what is thought. The blog is just a snapshot of life here. Sometimes I forget things; sometimes I write about trivia; sometimes there is definitely too much self-analysis, but I'm working on it. I have chosen to write my blog as myself. What I have, what is here, is about the life someone who has moved 350 miles into a completely different life, and to a great extent a completely different culture. There is a world of difference between the terraced streets of Tranmere, Birkenhead and the High Street of Falmouth. Good differences though: after a term of much reflection and doubts and worrying, I'm glad I came. The problem is that old thing of worrying that I haven't written what someone else has written - writers' envy. You need as a writer to look at other people's work and use it to reflect on your own, but you still need to hang onto what you have written yourself and see that it has value also. You can still do that and take on board good criticism and editing.
Nothing funny as yet has happened today. I didn't even giggle as I was reading my work out, which, embarrassingly I have done the last few weeks, I think it's nervous laughter. What will be funny soon though is when Carlo (who writes about heaving bosoms) and I (who do not have heaving bosoms anymore - they shrank after dieting) attempt to write a Mills and Boon novel...