Introvert Indigo

Indigo is actually my hamster!

I wondered if I should be open and give my name but instinct is telling me not to. I think I can be more open and creative with a pseudonym and having some privacy in our very not private world.

I’m in my early 30’s and live in west London, UK, with my partner and our hamster. We are DINKs – dual income no kids. Not that in this current economic climate that means we have tons of extra income because we don’t. But, our hamster has a bloody good life.

Indigo lives in a 100x50cm enclosure by herself. Comparatively, we have less floor space in our flat than her. At this point, she is our landlady.

Here she is:

She is a Syrian, 10 weeks old and a rescue. We’ve had her 2 weeks, which was 3 months after losing our first hamster to old age. She is obsessed with running on her wheel and is still warming to us, but has a lot of character.

From real Indigo, back to fake Indigo. In the past I’ve kept diaries, written chapters of a story that never came to fruition, and been told I’m relatable enough times to make me think I could be a good read.

Sometimes, I’ve wished I’d written down my experiences to look back on and remind me of good times, and lessons I’ve learned along the way.

I have a tendency to write “too efficiently” and assume the reader is in my head, so I’m working on writing more fully.

When I was in my third year of Uni, I was writing my 10,000 word dissertation and had handed in an early draft to my supervisor. She gave me feedback on the content and finished off with: “I can’t believe I’m saying this, because I never do….”

Me: *catastrophising*

Supervisor: “You need to add more… fluff. You are so ‘to the point’, it’s clinical.”

Me: “Oh.”

I have since learned there are perks of this quirk. More on that another time.

TTFN.

… Introvert Indigo 🐹