The Christmas holidays are over and this afternoon The Artist and I return to our cleaning jobs at a nearby secondary school. It’s wet and wild out there and I’m grateful that we chose to go for a drive yesterday, when it was freezing cold but gloriously sunny. Traveling along deserted country lanes, winding through picturesque but silent villages, reminded me why we were motivated to forsake the life-limiting rat-race on the mainland, nearly a decade ago.
For technical reasons, which I cannot fathom and with which I will not bore you, I’m finding it tricky to pubish a decent blog. Which is why I haven’t posted my New Year Writing Resolutions yet. To be honest, I’ve been enjoying myself far too much – reading the other blogs I follow, downloading ebooks to the Kindle app on my iPad, eating junk food and dozing on the sofa – to actually make any. And it’s probably too late now, don’t you think? (Say, ‘yes!’)
I distrust formal resolution-making anyway. Past experience informs me that – whenever I state, publically, that I intend to do something or other, without fail I invoke the fickle law of reverse attraction. I scarcely have time to boot up my computer before my path is strewn with – not obstacles, exactly – but diversions. The Artist appears in a burst of disruptive energy; my son decides to get married, my daughter gives birth to twins or the sun shines and I abandon my keyboard to go outside and play.
So – no resolutions for me. Instead I’ll share with you my only promise.
Whatever happens this year – and despite the prophesies of universal doom and gloom – I will live life to the full, remembering what brought me here
The rain has ceased, grey skies are turning blue. It’s going to be another lovely day here on The Isle of Wight.