Friday, 5 February 2016

An ordinary day.

One ride on one thoroughbred, two walks with two dogs, some fairly blah weather, a quick bit of HorseBack work  and one thousand three hundred and forty-nine words of book. (I have started yet another secret project.)

It was not really a memorable day, not one for the ages. I did not think deep thoughts or cook anything delicious or even really contemplate the trees. I got the things done that needed to be done in a rather workaday fashion and felt vaguely resentful about the gloomy old drizzle. It was the kind of day when I saw the mud, not the field.

I’m only writing this down because I’ve got the stupid idea in my  head that the last year of my forties must be catalogued in full. (Why? Why? I don’t exactly think that the University of Texas is going to be ringing up for my papers; they are far too busy gazing with love at their collection of Evelyn Waugh’s letters.)

So, that was my day. It was not a good day, or a bad day. It was just – a day.

At which point the cheerleader voices in my head start shouting but you did some work, and you rode a horse, and you still have your opposable thumbs and the ability to type. And, say the slightly sterner voices: you can move around under your own steam, you are not living in a theocracy, and you have clean running water coming out of the taps. And you have a brain to think with and eyes to see and Scotland just outside your window. So what if it was a bit blah and Stanley the Manly ate half a pat of butter and the weather is rotten? There may not have been pom-poms and marching bands, but you got some things done and tomorrow you will get some more things done and not every 24 hours is going to win a prize.

Those stern voices can be quite tiring sometimes, but they are almost always right.


  1. A day with some riding of a horse is always going to be a good one I think. Well done on all of those words. I've been reading words (here and there - very much enjoying the ones here, happy to have discovered your blog, in a roundabout way) but not writing many today. Maybe tomorrow while the rain lashes against the windows. More mud to come.

  2. Take time each day to write something about your life's journey. Reflect daily on that which has meaning for you. There is always something but we often let the little miracles go unacknowledged. Capture them, cherish them and claim them as part of the wonderment of your life ~ Mary Francis Winters

  3. I had an actual carnival parade with pom poms and brass band experience yesterday. It followed me to Waterloo station and up on to the concourse. It was a bit ramshackle. Was it a flash mob? I don't know but it brightened my evening.

  4. Welcome to my world. I struggle with low grade depression and the cloudy days aren't helpful either. The activities you accomplished today are great for all the reasons you mentioned. I'm glad you have cheerleader voices. Sometimes my husband is my cheerleader. Still having your opposable thumbs and your pet name for Stanley made me laugh.

  5. On days when I can't see anything but the mud, I pull back my mind's eye as if I were going up in a slow rocket. I see myself, muddling about my house or yard, then I see my town, then the state of NY, then the coastline, the entire country, and finally the world spinning - a tiny ball in space. That perspective teaches me how important my worries are, which is to say not very.

  6. Not sure if this is appropriate but anyway - last year a great friend went through a very serious struggle - came out of it but was awful.

    I just bought him Reasons To Stay Alive by Matt Haig - I understand it's more than a book about depression..

    I'm reading Prue Leith's autobiography as I am missing France and she makes me think of Elizabeth David who always makes me think of France...Spring is on the way..


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