As a six year old I remember staring at a blank page and not wanting to make that first mark. There is nothing wrong with a blank page. No miss-formed letters that are not sitting on the line. Dutch is not spelt incorrectly. Nothing is crossed out, scribbled out, rubbed out through to the next page. It is a page full of potential, unrestrained by the abilities or lack there of, of the author. The moment the idea is carbonised on the page it is set. Closed. It becomes open to public scrutiny, to interrogation, to challenge. As an adult my fingers hover above the keys waiting for the courage to make that first mark on a blog post. A blog that will be full of the insights and ponderings of a learner from a little country school who has been around this world for awhile.