Everybody knows that the best writing is produced when it is forced out of a person, right? Good, because this is what happened to me today. My best friend, companion and life partner, Emily pretty much held a gun to my head until this blog was created.*
In fact, it was not too dissimilar from Stephen King's 'Misery'. She was lonely, fat psycho, Annie Wilkes and I was talented, suave Paul Sheldon, imprisoned and forced to write against my will.**
Other people have encouraged me to write more, though, and particularly to share my somewhat inappropriate passion (obsession, some may say) with nail varnish and nail art. And other things of a sparkly and pretty variety.
So I am.
Singing In A Bubble Bath is a strange blog name, I realise this, but Emily and I were just going through things I like and things I like to do, and something that no other blogger was already using (you would be surprised). So singing in a bubble bath, (and making phone calls, many people will know), is definitely a love of mine. Along with cats, but I'm stereotyped enough as it is.
On a last note, I have just returned from A&E after my flatmate knocked herself out playing chair jousting.*** And I managed to cause havoc by spilling frozen peas all over the waiting room. Smooth, as always.
* May or may not be an exaggeration of actual events.
** This is a metaphor, although she is no stranger to showing affection through violence.
*** She is fine, healthy and alive.