An unbosoming

I have a confession to make. I have a disreputable little habit that I don't usually choose to share. Something I only usually indulge in those precious few moments I have to myself, it's not dangerous or illegal just well, anti-social. I have all the paraphernalia, the trappings, the equipment, the books and the websites, some times I carry those shiny little things in my pocket, it gives me comfort.

I suppose its the rhythm and repetition that are so soothing, its quite an addictive behaviour, but not one any child would want to catch their mother indulging in.

And on that note my children will be home next week so after this morning I must go and put it all away in its expensive black velvet lined case and tuck it in the back of the wardrobe, for I must become the upright, church going, respectable mother.

No one must know that when they have gone and I have the place to myself that I'll draw the curtains and close the windows, then hammer it out on my banjo.