Last night was the second night of my volunteering. It's going really well. I'm helping a really lovely bloke in his early 20s, who's painfully shy and severely dyslexic.
Even after two sessions, he seems a bit more confident. He's reading better and has come out of his shell a little bit.
I feel like I'm actually contributing something - a feeling I've never, ever had in my normal job. Ain't altruism brilliant?
When I was on my way home last night, I was thinking about how difficult it must be if words don't come naturally to you.
Almost everything I do involves words. I'm a copywriter, so I work with words. When I'm not writing words for work, I'm using words for pleasure.
I read. All the time: books, magazines, newspapers, websites.
I organise my life by writing lists and I carry a notebook everywhere with me to scribble down ideas.
I write my blogs.
I'm learning Welsh - more words.
Words, I bloody love 'em, me.