She flew with a dangerous crowd.

His heart was all a-flutter.

Peanut sat on a railroad track,

His heart was all a-flutter,

Around the bend,

Came number ten...

Toot toot! Peanut Butter.

I have peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth, and it is making me oh so happy. It has distracted me momentarily from my concerns. Like a good little eager child I've looking at other blogs, as I've now discovered a new toy, and I want to see what all the other children have got. It seems the other children, as is always the case, have shinier, fluffier toys than mine. 

I have learnt that blogs are painted with the sparkley colours and whizbang bits of adorable newborn babies, happy families with bouncy blonde children, scrapbooking collections of talented but oppressed middle aged artists, the photographs of brilliant well travelled people with fancy cameras, collections of interesting handbags found online, people with cats, people with tea cosies, and comical genius expressed through a whole lotta swearing.

So, I wish jellyfish - but I am not blessed with the ownership of a gooey eyed baby, or a knitted teacosey collection. I would very much like a knitted teacosey collection.... I would very much like to know how to spell teacosey properly, I don't think I've got it right. 

Just some days, some sunshine, some chocolate bars. Some pictures of moments. Some words.

Some very forgiving friends :)

What have I become, my sweetest friend.

Sunrise, Sunset. You realise, then you forget.

"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"

And a little later you added: "You know, one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..." "Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?" (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry - The Little Prince)

I have always been a sunset person. I have loved the flirtatious colour and the passion, the thought that the day has gone and the night is to come. It is true that one loves the sunset, when one is so sad. I have been the kind of girl who would stop, no matter where I was and what I was doing and watch the sun fall asleep. One day I was told, after I had made a rather annoyed friend pause for the fifth day in a row to watch the sunset, that my infatuation was absurd - the sunset was there yesterday, and it will be there again tomorrow. Despite this, it made me incandescently happy, and rather than begin to get dark, the world would begin to shine.

 Yesterday however, I think I had a secret affair with the sunrise. The Dawn and I caught each other's eye, and came to a perfectly silent understanding. It is true that mostly in the past I’ve have only seen the sunrise through the lids of my ignorantly closed, fast asleep eyes. But I plan to meet with her more often, wide awake in my drowsy, innocent morning naivety. My moment  with her made me realise that my relationship with the sunset  was not much more than lust.

The sunset is lust, and the sunrise is the fabled and misunderstood concept of love. The sunrise is the time of sleepy eyed innocence. The sun has not yet fully revealed the sins of the night, and the day is yet to blaze and burn. The sunrise is the quintessential feeling of hope. One knows that anything could happen today, and the sense of the unknown is arousing and inspiring.

The dawn is the first few bars of a familiar melody, played in contented, undemanding silence.

"It was the afternoon of extravagant delight"

I am suddenly awfully aware that for the first time others may read the words that stumble and stagger clumsily from my mind to the page.

Ill-fated, unfortunate words, I do feel sorry for them. If only they had been born into the mouth of Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Oscar Wilde or MGMT perhaps they would feel like they had a life purpose, like they had the ability to change lives and make people dance and be clever and witty and loved. The reality of course, is that like most completely ordinary words they will dedicate themselves to the 9-5 life of this blog. When they die, they will be forgotten. These words may have children that love and remember them, and perhaps grandchildren, but generally they will go unnoticed through their mundane, monotonous self-serving lives.

I suppose therefore, that while I never intended on giving this blog an introduction - a magical first post that will entice and delight and promise things I cannot deliver - I am pledging to my beloved word-friends that they will finally have the opportunity to get off the couch and dance. They will see the world! I am crossing my heart and poking my eye that I will book my fledgling, scruffy, baby bird words into ballet classes and piano classes and gymnastics and give them the head start in this world that they deserve. 

My ordinary words will do extraordinary things with their lives!

Word, brother.