If you're finding it at all a bit boring, bear with me. I'll try to be more amusing next week, when hopefully my current somewhat somber mood will have passed.
I went to a dinner party last week which was attended by lots of interesting people all far more important, worthy and intelligent than I - what I know about politics would fit on the back of a postage stamp - but somehow we managed to find common ground and a few kind souls even laughed at my jokes, which I truly appreciated. I do love a good dinner party.
Anyway, I digress. The point of mentioning the party was that I met a rather wise woman there who I hope will become a future friend. One thing she said to me, which has had me thinking all week (all this bloody cogitating, perhaps I need a new hobby), was that always trying to be brave isn't necessarily a good thing.
I'm a bit of an expert at putting a brave face on things; fifteen years of working in public relations has equipped me with a fantastic poker face. Although I think of myself as a person who wears her heart on her sleeve this may well only be an internal perception, perhaps shared by a selection of very good friends. It is certainly true that I am a master of plastering on a bright smile before I venture out into the world, however I'm feeling inside.
While part of me thinks this is the only way to be - why inflict my negative emotions on innocent bystanders? - it does mean I tend to bottle things up when times are bad. Which, as my new hopefully-friend indicated, isn't the most emotionally healthy way to be.
So sod bravery. I feel like cr*p right now and therefore I will be having a one-woman pity party tonight, accompanied only by wine, chocolate, iTunes and a big box of tissues.
After all, is a spot of emotional self-indulgence now and then so very wrong? Full-time bravery can really wear a woman down.