Things are moving.

There's nothing worse in life than to have no goals. When you have the feeling you've stopped growing personally, professionally or in whatever direction you choose, you reach an impasse. For many, the solution is either the bottle, the affair, the ludicrous clothes or golf. Not wanting any of these options, I decided to pick up the phone and start reviving old contacts. Within an hour there was the prospect of a more productive future and that's good enough for the time being. All that has to be done now is to pencil in some dates and get talking to the right people to ensure there's something concrete for the diary, prepare and execute. All you need is an idea, a phone that works and people available at the other end who don't bear you a grudge for running off with their wife, stealing their prize marrow or setting fire to their dog. E-mail works, too, but the human voice is more effective, providing you can suppress your desperation to turn your life around.

I'm only writing this blog as a personal diary. After losing three tomes of thoughts and memoirs to hard disk failure I decided to store them on the internet. Just in case anyone does read this one day I've taken the precaution to mask who I am, what I do, where I live and anything which could compromise the privacy of my family. I'll remember what job I was doing later on, but I probably won't recall how I felt at the time.

The Fingernails are at home all this week. Either it's the school holidays or the children are all on strike; it's difficult to know in France, sometimes.