As a young child at primary school I hated wet days. I was so energetic and lively I so often wanted to tear around the playground and generally burn off far too much over enthusiasm. Wet play time was bad.
Now in my late 40s I have little energy at times. My motivation is sometimes suspect. And I struggle at times to get through the day without structure. So on this wet first day of my holiday I'm at something of a loss as to what to do. I did pop out for a while, had a wander and a sandwich, did the butcher then retreated from the cold damp day.
Thus far the afternoon has been spent listening to Radio 3 and reading. It was good to hear a live rendition at the proms of Mozart's wonderful clarinet quintet. But little else has cheered me. The return of nightmares in the slumber disturbed night did not set me on the path to a good day.
All a far cry from what might have been. My plan originally was to get the train to London to meet up with Krishna. But she cancelled as she has some things to sort out. There will be another time. It leaves today to be filled though. There is plenty I should be doing but robbed of any motivation I'm not getting very far.
Are holidays always like this? It is easy to go out and spend. But that isn't always good. Better to have taken time out after pay day but things didn't pan out for that. So I will lumber on a flat, not energetic way and think of better days. Tomorrow will be here soon and I will try as hard as I can to lift things and appreciate the time that I so lack when term is in full swing, I'm bombarded by demands and I long for those precious moments away from it all when I can recuperate and reflect on what good there is not what is not so good.
I Heard a Voice.
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