Plodding along

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps on this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time, and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.”

Macbeth by William Shakespeare

London winter sunsets

Oh, Shakespeare! You had me at tomorrow.

You’ve heard me say your first draft has permission to suck.  That’s still true even though our first draft of 2017 has been unexpectedly fractious and gruelling. Call it seasonal affective disorder, call it one problem after another, call it what you like. So far, 2017 is not the post-2016-solve-all that it promised to be (promised as in the promise communicated to me over a glass of Champagne on New Years Eve).

I tried turning to the bottle – or rather the glass – but that just makes me burble. My real low point was last week Tuesday, when I Googled ‘I give up‘. Google yielded some unhelpful images of cartoon characters waving the white flag.

Thank goodness Hubby came home from work  that evening all upbeat, cheery and hopeful, or I might have turned to chocolate!

The solutions?

  • Exercise – on my ‘To do’ list.
  • Spring – on its way.
  • Travel planning – in progress.
  • French studies – to resume ASAP.
  • West End Show – saw Pirates of Penzance at the ENO last weekend #priceless.
  • Get writing again – back on the blog and journo deadlines looming as we speak.
  • Walk along the Thames hand in hand with Hubby – actioned last night.
  • SMILE – good for the cheek muscles and makes people look at me funny, but I persist.
  • Start something new – Bridge lessons with Hubby and Mama #hooked.
  • Count my blessings – set reminder to do so every day.

Hubby says I have a slight tendency to catastrophize (thanks for the ‘slight’ my love).

So, on examination, it’s not been all bad.

Bridge
Learning to play bridge on a Sunday afternoon.

My little family up north moved into their own home. My mama was with us in the UK for a whole month. We started weeding the allotment for our friends – nothing like fresh air and the smell of soil to lift the spirits. Though business is still challenging, by some miracle our money seems to have stretched to cover costs #feeding5000. My mama got her fix of charity shopping and car boot sales and managed to get all the way home without anyone realising she was carrying a whopping 46kgs! Had lunch with a university friend who now lives in Muscat and who I haven’t seen in about 10 years. The blossoms are out and walks in the English countryside are all the rage. The Donald continues to confound, but at least the political cartoonist can get a laugh out of me.

I was at least alive and kicking during my blogging absence – some snaps to prove it:

SMALL PRINT
P.s. I’m currently reading “Leaf by Niggle”. It’s a short story written by J. R. R. Tolkien (1938–39). It was first published in the Dublin Review in January 1945. It’s wonderfully encouraging and I’ll share more in my next blog.
P.p.s. I don’t even really like chocolate, but occasionally in a low sugar moment, nothing seems more appropriate than a cup of tea and a slice of chocolate cake … this desire generally arises at a time when there is no hope at all of finding said slice of cake.
P.p.p.s. Hubby thought it prudent to add that my mama did not put on 46kgs during her stay in the UK. That number refers to the weight of her cumulative luggage on her return flight to South Africa.
P.p.p.p.s. Seasonal Affective Disorder (S.A.D.) does exist and mainly affects those of us in the Northern Hemisphere. I feel it mostly in February/March.

2 thoughts on “Plodding along

  1. Hi .Good to read your blogs again this year.Glad you are looking forward to ‘tomorrow’ and all the lovely things that will come your way.Excercise and a little chocolate treat occasionally plus smiling sounds a brilliant way forward for the coming Spring and Summer months.Take care.x

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  2. And let me throw in some lyrics… “Tomorrow, Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You’re only a moment away!” Hang in there, my friend; Today is all we have to celebrate, tomorrow a promise and a whisper of hope.
    2017 looks to have a theme for me, which I refuse to speak of, until the end of it, in case I bring more down on myself, than I care to cope with currently.

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