Go Compare! (By Which I Mean, Don’t Compare)
My apologies to anyone reading this blog, particularly early in the morning. I have given you an earworm. If it’s any consolation, I’ve given myself one too. Sometimes I sit gazing at a blank screen for ages trying to think of a good first paragraph (or indeed any first paragraph), other times it simply drops into my head. So here I am, late in the afternoon on the 6 th , writing my MTW blog and looking out of the window at the weeds, the rampant nettles and the long grass. I really should be out there with the lawnmower, but, dear reader, my first duty is to you, so it can wait. I’ve spent most of my life comparing myself to others and coming off pretty badly. In primary school, I’d watch my classmates playing netball without ever having the teacher shout at them (“Stand still, Ruth! You can’t run while you’ve got possession!”) sail over the vaulting horse and get ten out of ten on their maths questions. I was resolutely unsporty and could barely count to ten (this is still t...