Losing my marbles

In truth, I lost my marbles many years ago.  Somewhere around birth I suspect.  I have never been a full loaf of bread and I'm rather proud of it.  Ordinary is boring.  Be odd.  Be strange.  Be flamboyant.  Although flamboyant hints at an unusual brand of glamour so to be flamboyant is probably tricky and definitely transient.  I was flamboyantly glamourous once. I remember it.  It happened.  In fact I touched upon flamboyant glamour that last time I sampled a night-life.  My wonderful friend Gemma was with me.  We took about 4 hours to get ready.  We were hip and we were chic.  Anyway, I digress......

Today I thought about marbles.  The physical kind.  The ones you treasured as a child.  The kind of marbles that you swapped, rolled across the school playground in a desperate attempt to win more impressive marbles.  I miss those times.  I coveted my marbles.  I loved the swirley patterns and colours.  To me, marbles were like diamonds.  I truly loved mine. Now, 30 odd years later, I've lost them.  In that, I have no clue where the marbles, once coveted, actually are.  I have truly lost my marbles.  Unlike the marbles that stand for sanity, which don't interest me at all.  I rather miss those little round pieces of magic. 

xx