Stories that make sense
By way of contrast with yesterday, today’s weather was everything that early January ought to be: cold, clear, and lit with gentle gold sunlight. I always struggle, when in recovery, with finding the balance between “keeping active” and “overdoing it”: today’s walk was probably about a kilometre, which was about right. More to the point, it put me in the company of the sun, and the bluetits, and the wagtails, and these trees.
I’ve been feeling pretty sore and wiped out today, and the weather’s been horrible: driving rain before lunch, and a cold wind afterwards. In a different year I would have been in Winchester for the Friends of King Alfred Buses running day; in a different state of health I’d at least have been out for a bracing walk. But there’s something to be said for easing into the New Year with what is, after all, just as longstanding a tradition; for galvanising my intention to make some more music this year (and it needs galvanising: I’ve signed up to sing two duets in little more than a week’s time); for taking time to heal; and for letting pleasure and whimsy and beauty come to me. So we watched the New Year’s Concert from Vienna this morning, and this afternoon I crashed out, first in bed and then on the sofa, and I can’t say that I have any complaints at all about how I’ve spent New Year’s Day.
Kathleen Jowitt 