Change Your Life in 30 Days (or your money back)

Was is it just me or did we all live our lives around books like this in the olden days? The special ones with a CD in a little plastic wallet that we could play on our Discman to bamboozle our brains into brilliance. Or thin-ness. Whatevs.

I thought they were kind of old hat but it seems the internet still has plenty of promises to make once it realises you’re looking for a new life. Sign up here, do this (but deffo not that) and manifest, manifest, manifest! The universe will provide, oh yes it will, baby. Blimey.

I do actually believe in all that (oh, shush) but suspect the universe might need a hearing aid. I get that, in order to bring about the change we crave, we need to actually do something about it. Sitting up a mountain, meditating and chanting, isn’t going to get us very far. It would make a nice change, I suppose, until I need a wee and/or a glass of wine and a crisp. But I made a change; I gave up the job in law that was giving me high blood pressure and sleepless nights. No one needs to be shouted at all day long, no matter how lovely their colleagues. ‘Just leave,’ said the Greek God. So I did.

“If you want to fly, you have to give up what weighs you down” – Roy T. Bennett

I now have a wonderful window in which to figure out and establish a way to pay the bills by doing what I love: taking photos, writing stuff, being bloody hilarious. Hmmm. Unfortunately, that window will only be open for a couple of months.

Two months isn’t quite enough time to finish writing the novel and get a three-book deal with Simon & Schuster. Articles, maybe? Freelance stuff? Freelance bed-testing (just in the sleeping sense, you understand)?

I’ve got a diary and a plan. If it all goes tits up, I’ll write a screenplay about it and become a BBC sitcom sensation.

Right then. Maybe a quick dog walk on the coast while I listen to my Paul McKenna CD. Then mantras up the mountain. Oh, wait, I live in Suffolk; a serious flaw in that plan. Hard graft it is then. Bugger.