At 44, I knew what I was doing and was set to do it for life. At 45, my life has changed again.
I am no longer teaching dogs. Struggles with my health (Adenomyosis) and (I’m not gonna lie) finances have made me come to the point where I can’t do it any more.
So, to avoid confusion, I’m starting my newsletter all over again. I took the drastic step of shutting down the old ones, so that the deluge of “I need some help for my cockerpoo” emails will slow down, and I can write about anything I like.
I now offer dog-sitting services at a premium price for dogs requiring a high-end service. Additionally, I've retrained as a TEFL Tutor, allowing me to work from anywhere with a comfy chair and an internet connection.
I don't care if I get lots of readers or if people like my stuff. I’m writing for me, and me alone. I need to get a heap of shit off my chest, and this is where I will be putting it. (But if you do want to read, then may your coffee always be the right temperature and your chocolate always have that lovely snap in your mouth between your teeth when you take the first bite.)
I’m looking forward to not having a writing schedule, no need to get paid for my writing, and no “look at me, I’m a brilliant writer” posts. Just writing for the sake of it, about anything that takes my fancy, because I can.