I’ve been talking about writing a blog for so long now that I don’t think anyone thought I’d ever get started. So, seizing the, somewhat overdue, moment I logged on via a bad mobile signal on my ‘phone and was immediately confronted with the need to choose a name for aforesaid blog.
Panic! Hadn’t thought this bit through. Almost logged straight back off again. Then I just went with the first thing that popped into my head: Sarah Bucket.
And that was all I managed before I lost the connection. So Sarah Bucket I am and here we are a couple of weeks later, trying to explain that random moment.
I knew I didn’t want to use a combination of my first and surname, the first is too common and the latter is too long. Abbreviations really aren’t my cup of tea and despite Susan crying “Illingpig, Illingpig” in my mind’s ear from the other side of the world, it really wasn’t the right feel for this particular communication. (But you can follow me as illingpig on Twitter if you feel the need). And thence sprang Sarah Bucket.
I discover later (having taken the time to search the Internet – foresight, or even spur-of-the-moment-sight, being such valuable, not to mention unobtainable, commodities) that a bucket list is a “things to do before you die” list. So, apposite in its own annoying way, but not why I chose it.
When I was little I had a fascination with water and buckets. This particular vintage swimwear and bucket, which I’m modelling on one of Broadstairs’ beaches, is from the middle of 1964. Whilst the bucket fascination has dwindled, I spent the early part of my life being serenaded by my parents with the chorus “Sarah, Sarah Bucket, Queen of Wells House Road” to the tune of “Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier”. We must have had a television as it’s a theme tune but it sounds as if we also made some of our own entertainment. If you’re not old or sad enough to recall the tune then take a trip inside my juvenile brain here
So Sarah Bucket I was and Sarah Bucket I remain.
I realise that it could represent other things. Dylan’s “Buckets of rain, buckets of tears” or perhaps my very own bucket list (more on that later). I was just coming up to two years old when that photo was taken and now I discover that the median life expectancy for those, like me, diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in their bones is also two years. I received my diagnosis on the 1st August this year, 2011, so my clock’s already ticking.
Looks like I’d better stop the procrastination and start working on that list.