Today I felt inspired to do something I haven't done since I was a teenager. And no it wasn't get pissed on neat vodka, snog a random spotty youth or wear fishnet tights and too much kohl. Instead I was inspired to that most pretentious of pursuits - poetry.
I let my husband read the fruits of my labour and he was underwhelmed to put it politely. I did put it up here, but on second thoughts he probably had a point, so I have hidden it along with my blushes.
I think I will stick to what I know best, writing about the mayhem of raising four small boys. It's clearly more my forte.