(no subject)
The feeling of stagnation is overwhelming at present. Oppressive and tense. I'm getting snappy and tight jawed and am noticing an irritating tendency to self pity.
Our house is still broken, and the recent skirmishes with planning have been for me, more stressful than the original accident or the period where we were told no one was being held accountable for the damage.
Richard has started work in Brighton this week, 5 hours a day traveling minimum. Sigh.
My end exams are in three weeks and I feel unprepared. I'm in the dull situation of trying to cram learning into ticky boxes for exam marks, when I want to be learning the Spanish language.
Dreaming about garden potential is lifting me out of my glums. A couple of recent trips to RHS Wisley have helped with the inspiration. That and the mellow September sunshine. I love the light at this time of year. Henry and I are spending all possible time out there digging and pottering, while I imagine our building projects finished and a coop of chickens to help with the the endless fat slugs.
I've also just finished listening to 'Born to run' by Christopher McDougal. The freedom he ascribes to barefoot running is amazing. I wonder if it is really achievable by mere mortals like me?
At the moment I'd settle for just getting the feeling back properly in my hands after this lousy virus.
Our house is still broken, and the recent skirmishes with planning have been for me, more stressful than the original accident or the period where we were told no one was being held accountable for the damage.
Richard has started work in Brighton this week, 5 hours a day traveling minimum. Sigh.
My end exams are in three weeks and I feel unprepared. I'm in the dull situation of trying to cram learning into ticky boxes for exam marks, when I want to be learning the Spanish language.
Dreaming about garden potential is lifting me out of my glums. A couple of recent trips to RHS Wisley have helped with the inspiration. That and the mellow September sunshine. I love the light at this time of year. Henry and I are spending all possible time out there digging and pottering, while I imagine our building projects finished and a coop of chickens to help with the the endless fat slugs.
I've also just finished listening to 'Born to run' by Christopher McDougal. The freedom he ascribes to barefoot running is amazing. I wonder if it is really achievable by mere mortals like me?
At the moment I'd settle for just getting the feeling back properly in my hands after this lousy virus.