I finally went for a run after work yesterday evening. My daughter - full of optimism and enthusiasm in the morning - returned from school claiming hayfever, pollen count, no breath, no energy, and more. I ran on my own.
The run was surprisingly ok - despite the sun deciding to try and fry me alive en-route. I had thought about running at lunchtime - while the sky was cloudy, and the wind was blowing - but no. I waited for my daughter. I kept my promise. And cooked myself. Glad I did it though.
Yesterday lunchtime I tried grabbing half an hour for myself on the green outside our houses, and sat with a book, half reading, half watching people walking their dogs. Ten minutes. That’s how long it took until my other half called me, and asked if I could do something for her. I didn’t bother going back out.
Today I thought “f*ck it”, and walked into town with my eldest daughter. I should have gone on my own - to escape for an hour - but no. Out of habit I asked my eldest daughter if she wanted to come with me, and she said yes.
Having thrown away my sandals some time ago I wore flip-flops, which cut my feet to pieces (it’s about a 2 mile circular walk to town and back). I truly am an idiot.
I bought a pair of cheap sunglasses, and a paper notebook. Not a moleskine - a knock-off moleskine from W H Smiths. It will do. I’m going to try to get back into writing on paper again. I have a row of paper journals on the shelf across the room - stretching back about twenty years. I used to write regularly - particularly during the couple of years I worked in London.
My days were long. I would leave the house before 7am, and not get home until 7pm most days. While squashed into the corner of trains I would either read a book, or empty my head into the paper journals. I’ve never looked back at what I wrote. It seemed helpful at the time.
I bought some pens too - and reminisced with my daughter about the four colour “Bic” pens that elevated you to “it” in the secondary school classroom if you had one. Or the wooden folding pencil cases with a sliding top that made you feel like a King or Queen in junior school.
On the walk back my phone rang again…
“Are you still in town?”
“No.”
“Damn”
My middle daughter drew the short straw this time.