Not oodles

An odd thing happened the other day.  I’m in the middle of sorting a 365 blip book and a little hiccup in one system or another meant my book disappeared.  From everywhere.  It was all very strange.  Then, last night, I noticed that my entry from the 4th November had disappeared. Without a trace.  Most peculiar.

The Blip team have been most helpful even if it wasn’t fathomable by anyone.  I hadn’t realised quite how important each of those entries is.  My subconscious knew that already of course because, just before I went to bed, after not being able to remember what I’d written and feeling a little deflated, it all came flooding back, without it being requested. So, I dashed downstairs to write it before it was lost again in a pile of papermindwork.  

Until the hole appeared on my calendar and my heart missed a beat, I’d not really considered the importance of my photo, my words and you lovely people who visit my journal.  I cannot save your visits on that day but I will at least be saving my written entries in Word before I publish them.

Oh, and of course, my wheels...  I felt an oodle fitter today despite the murk, the increase in the breeze and feeling a touch nauseous before and during my ride.  

The latter had all gone away until I ate too much for tea!  But I'm sure that's all it is.