It isn’t possible to ignore it. Many of you will have followed the conversation in the comments box of one of my recent posts and though I don’t  intend to offer an opinion one way or the other (I honestly think both sides of the argument have truth in them)  and see no reason to censor such discussion, I have to be honest and tell you that to find yourself discussed in such a manner is both disconcerting and akin to finding yourself being pyscho-analysed without the extortionate fees!

In 2004, when I first created BrocanteHome, it was fully intended to chart the highs and lows of living a scrumptious home-centred life: about creating for my son, the reassurance of an old fashioned childhood and above all else to document the way that it is more than entirely possible to create a home that is a true reflection of who we are and who we want to be…

Somewhere along the way, I think you will agree, I lost direction. Partly because of turbulence in my private life and partly because an ego like mine finds  a captive audience to my own personal dramas so utterly compelling! Ladies I  suspect  I have created a monster : a monster shaping the pattern of my life in more ways than I  am willing to admit…

Last week a man fell half in  love with this illusory me. The much blogged about Alison. And yet when I sat in front of him, all  too human, with conversation that doesn’t flow like the words I type here, my much mentioned big bum and no doubt, some weird way of conducting myself people are too polite to mention: I suspect I came out wanting. It doesn’t matter. Of course it doesn’t.  He was lovely but I don’t know him from Adam.  The point is that before he met me he imagined me to be somebody I am not. He came over all foolish about the woman he imagined me to be, and I too started to believe in her. I let myself be vulnerable and in the process let myself be hurt. Enough said.

I know I reveal too much. I understand that it is not the way of the world. That for the most other people play their cards closer to their chest. I know it.  I do. But when telling the whole world who you are, (without being certain that they can read between the lines) is second nature to you, it is very, very difficult to draw the line, analyse what you are writing and truly see  exactly what  persona you are presenting to any given audience. And then you find  yourself the subject of a discussion that on the one hand  sticks knives in your  vulnerable, silly, heart and the other reveals the truth about who you are letting yourself become and you understand for the first time that you have no choice but to re-trace your steps, find the place on the map you were stood when the wind blew the wrong way and start all over again.

So Housekeepers I am taking us back to the roots of BrocanteHome. Though I will no doubt find regaling you with tales of my absolute idiocy to tempting to resist, and I will keep on offering titbits from my terrible dating life (I am so very, very bad at it!!),  I will over the next few weeks be returning to the way things used to be: to housekeepers planners and vintage recipes. To getting our lives in scrumptiously pretty working order, a community area where you can showcase your blogs, businesses and babbas, and a new service offering personalised vintage housekeeping advice.

I do hope you understand and I truly hope you will enjoy the third age of BrocanteHome.

Thoughts please?