It has struck me recently just how key writing is to everything I do, work, domestic, everything.
At the core, the maypole around which all the ribbons of my life flutter and dance, is the humble list.
It’s such a simple device for getting our thoughts in order. When I got married I even had a list of all the lists I had.
Not everyone embraces this simple, elegant life support system; I’m always astonished that my partner can do a supermarket shop without any help from the written word. For me though, it’s key, allowing me to safely juggle my way through life.
A list is a commitment; if something is on a list, it will happen. It is a means of clearing my mind, of freeing up space for creative thought and is therefore part of the process of preparation when I am about to go into a coaching session.
The most basic list may be scribbled on the back of an envelope, the most magnificent has a notebook of its very own (see 'wedding' a few paragraphs up).
The list is my constant companion, constantly reinvented in a new and supremely helpful form. It brings me peace of mind, certainty, clarity and a reputation for being a woman of my word. Pretty powerful, I'd say.
