London Latte is having an identity crisis. Oh sure, I can think of plenty to write about over the last few weeks, but I am struggling with the tone and position of how to present my ramblings…and as I embark upon my own lifestyle changes, I’m supposed to consider my audience…as if ANYone other than my dear family is reading this anyway…
London Latte began from wanting to share back ‘home’ with everyone – my little cawfee tawk that ended with a drink…but as it happens, most people that read my blog, thanks to Victoria (and I am so GRATEFUL) – are now based in the UK.
So what’s the big deal right? I should just write what I want to write about…what inspires, irks or enlightens…isn’t that the point?
Yet I’m stuck. I don’t even do this for a real following, nor do I do it for any proper journalistic pursuit. I do it because it’s fun.
I love to write.
I love to try in the simplest way to put together a narrative…to try and tell a story…to somehow capture a moment…a human sentiment or experience without overdramatizing (too much!) or becoming self aggrandizing or too confessional.
I said from the first day I started this blog in my ‘ABOUT’ section what London Latte is NOT. Although I write about all the things that I say it is NOT, it now somehow feels random, scattered and disjointed.
It seems that everyone blogging at the moment – and forgive me as I don’t read enough of all the wonderful blogs that are out there – but everyone has an approach.
So where does that leave those of us just chatting? Do we have to spin it to make it work? Does it matter if nobody but our near and dear are reading it anyway?
But then why blog?
“I write only because
There is a voice within me
That will not be still”
Okay, enough pontificating…here’s a funny story…
WHY I LOVE to write even if I am alone with my giggles and nobody else laughs.
I thought about my blog fog and its identity crisis last week while I was back in NY helping Grammy recover from an operation. It was planned and not an emergency thank goodness but it will take some time for her to recover.
Since she has a rather uncomfortable hospital bed at home, I decided to dash out to Bed Bath and Beyond to find something to make her more comfortable.
This is what it probably should have looked like on lovely Long Island in late March/early April.
And…this is what I woke up to.
Thankfully, the roads cleared and I dashed out to get a mattress cover or some kind of support for the bed.
I was in a rush, did not want to leave her alone for too long…and since I have been known to get lost in the U.S.’s super megastore shopping centres, and we all know how much I do NOT like to shop (see A Fitting Place), I premeditated my visit with the intention of seeking out anyone with a namebadge that even muttered the first few syllables of…
‘Can I help you?’
Whew, saved by Debbie in a blue BB&B t shirt.
Me: My mom is in a hospital bed for a few weeks so I was hoping to get a mattress cover or some kind of support for her since the bed is not very comfortable
Debbie: Oh sure, do you mean pad or foam cover
Me: Mmm…I guess so, yes I think so that is great
Debbie: There are some just over here – what size did you need
Me: Well, it’s an adult single and adjustable bed
(looking at me strangely for offerring what appeared to be my mother’s marital status)
Me: You don’t have any?
Debbie: You said hospital bed right?
Debbie: Okay, well they are usually a bit longer…what about these egg crate toppers?
Me: Okay, yes that looks good – do you have any for singles?
Debbie: (now looking at me even MORE strangely for still emphasizing my mother’s dating practices)
Well, I suppose single people use them but what size is the bed…you did say hospital bed right? That would be a Twin or Twin XL.
Me: Ah yes… of course a twin. Thank you
I completely forgot what beds are called back ‘home’.
But why is it called a Twin anyway?!?! It’s not a twin at all – it’s a normal single bed and the word completely and utterly slipped my mind.
I also needed to grab some rubbish bags for the loo but at least knew that rubbish and loo would get me nowhere so I first asked for bin bags and even then quickly corrected myself to ask for a bathroom garbage can liner…WHEW…no strange looks.
I’m sure that this would all be very endearing and charming to BB&B staff if I actually HAD an English accent while mixing up my words.
But I DON’T.
I look and sound exactly like I did when I left LAWNG Island. I do NOT have an endearing and charming English accent.
So as wonderfully helpful as BB&B staff are, they are completely and utterly within their right state of mind to think that actually, I am just a dingbat.
Yep…an absolute idiot when I ask for American items with my silly little English words in a normal STRONG Island, New Yawk accent.
So, come to think of it…
It’s no wonder I get lost in megastores and no wonder I am conflicted…I can’t even find the right words to find what I’m looking for…
Errr…no chance of blog fog lifting any time soon.
I suppose I’ll linger over some of these then…
London (blog) Fog Cocktail:
compliments of Gourmet
Stir 1 1/2 ounces gin with 1/4 ounce Pernod.
Serve the drink in a well-chilled cocktail glass.
Makes 1 drink.
Or as many as you may need after shopping at BB&B.
Or until the fog clears…
Happy recovery mama!