I’m writing this a few minutes after 9am on Sunday morning. Summer seems to be ebbing away – the mornings are becoming a little colder – a little less inviting. Early next week we will escape the approach of autumn for a few more days – boarding an aeroplane in order to fight over sunloungers with fellow escapees. You may not find me at the hotel though – it’s far more likely that I’ll be a distant figure wandering the seashore, listening to the crash of waves, and picking up seashells while turning thoughts over and over in my head.
I need this holiday. I need to step away from the mayhem. I need to just “be”.
The house is still remarkably quiet. The younger children are away until tomorrow afternoon. I look in on Miss 13’s hamster each evening before bed, filling her food, checking her water, and talking to her for a little while. I’m not sure why I talk to her. I talk to all the animals – even the fish – wishing them a good morning each day. They are not very good conversationalists.
This week ahead of the holiday – of pottering, tinkering, and quietly moving from one chore to the next – has been good. Today will be more of the same. The washing machine and dishwasher are quietly rumbling away in the background, next door’s dog is barking from time to time, and Spotify is busy working through a playlist of things it thinks I might like – it’s doing pretty well so far.
Here’s to quiet Sundays, meandering blog posts, and recharging life’s batteries.