It may look like what you think it is, but it’s not.
Things rarely are.
People rarely are.
It may look like what you think it is, but it’s not.
Things rarely are.
People rarely are.
I’m sure many of us feel this way at times. Some of us more often than others, of course. Many of us blessed with a sense of personal awareness will know that what others think of us is irrelevant to keeping our own happiness at a healthy level. But we also know that there are times when such a view is just plain wrong.
The sun shone, we drove to the sea and were actually allowed to behave like normal people for a while. It wasn’t warm but seriously, this is England, who cares?
Because we are not the large bank balance, the expensive house or the new car. We are not even the exam results or the job title or the company that employs us.
Driving past a place that I have driven past before, I realised that I had never really seen it. Noticed, yes, but never properly seen. A place so quintessentially English with it’s old-fashioned village green, church and pond.
This lock down thing, it gets under your skin and into your head at times.
We have become a country split down the middle and we all know people in the rule followers and rule breakers camps. Those that are terrified of everything and everyone and those that think enough is enough.
A few weeks ago I shared a photograph of a dog in a puddle.
Fun, perhaps, but nothing special I hear you say, and you would probably be right.
It’s been like winter here, proper winter, for a change.
I know we had some snow a couple of weeks back. But that lasted just a few hours before it disappeared.
And when the never ending monotony of grey and wet and generally miserable days drains your mood and slowly, insipidly, chips away at your mental health.
It was the stillness that mattered the most, he believed, not the silence that so many people thought they needed.
And when I look out of my window, well, I can’t help but recall Christmas Eve memories that seem to so much brighter and more joyous that how we are spending this one.
Our world of grey, of depressingly cancelled pre-Christmas delight, of tiers and bubbles and of no physical contact, is feeling today exactly as it looks.
Because, and here is the thing, when you want the words and feelings to flow, from your head, through your fingers and into reality, well, that’s exactly when everything just decides to stop.
Where are the words, where are they, when you feel your heart swelling, reacting, in ways that just need to be shared?
You know how it is, when you wake up and nervously pull back the curtains, knowing that you have something rather special arranged for today and that you really, really want the weather to be kind to you?
It’s the real, “I want to do this and achieve something” kind of effort, that makes things happen, that’s what I’m talking about here..
And I smile knowingly and allow them a glimpse, no more, into a world that I know they will love and want to know more about. Everyone does, that's the thing. Every time, that story, it's always a winner.
And suddenly, it was all over.
The final stage of our walk along the Sussex coast, the first significant walking challenge that we have ever set ourselves. And achieved.
Because whilst this stage may not have quite been the best, it was also not quite the last. But on both counts it was pretty close and that’s good enough for me right now.