Musings on a blank screen

That delightfully Anglicised American lady who blogs as ABroad (love the pun, by the way) describes how, while she has limited connection with this great Interwebby thingummy, ideas flow thick and fast but when she returns home to 24/7 connectivity, her mind goes a blank as soon as she sits in front of the monitor. I know exactly how she feels - except with me the problem is much more acute. Every morning after breakfast I walk the dog. Ten minutes or so along pavements (sidewalks if you are one of my transAtlantic cousins) brings me to our local park. This is a delightful area of rough woodland and open grass with scattered beds of lilac and other shrubs such as berberis. We always walk down through the woods were Fern (that's the dog) enjoys snuffling through the undergrowth and, at this time of the year, the fallen leaves on the path. Then it's back up the hill through the lilac enclosure. Years ago, the Council planted new lilac bushes and fenced off a large part of the park to protect the new lilacs from deprivation by rabbits. The fence has since been renewed because people from all over the city bring their puppies here to let them off the lead in safety and to socialise them. Back home some 40 or 45 minutes after I set out, I put the kettle on and have a cup of coffee. During the hour or so walking and drinking coffee I mull over all sorts of things to blog about, hone sentences to perfection, and generally produce in my mind prose to equal the best of Dickens, Thackeray, the whole library of great writers. By the time I have switched on the computer - it's all gone. Forgotten. Lost for all time.

Actually, that's probably just as well if I'm truthful.