Kitchen-less mornings, Home renovating and Fresh salads...

How bitter sweet it is to remember Sunday's absent of anxious calms. To remember weekend plans, carefully collated evening dinners and mornings of clearheaded thoughts. The world seems busy - rushing chaotically past me with speed and assertion. It slows for no one, least of all me. 

I remember the hope and determination behind summer to do lists, neglected gently as they hang on the fridge. They seemed palpable at one time - in a small world of morning and evenings that spanned a thousand years. I laughed at the thought that I might not return before September  - but here I am three months on with painfully scrambled plans, none yet set in stone. All I know is that the weekends will come as fast as they pass. With heavy eyes and sore feet, anxious thoughts will fade as the mornings come and I will once again drive Friday evening hurriy away from busy minds. I've packed the fridge with salad bits- Cous Cous, dressing, Greek olives, chicken, rocket, fresh vine tomatoes, cucumber, fruits and herbed potatoes. 

Right now, I dream of peaceful mornings. Slow cooked beef, carefully put on at four. I dream of late nights without anxious fingertips, sweet wine that can be savoured not just swallowed. Books to be devoured, boot sales to be wandered through, trains to escape on, markets to browse, freah bread to bake, bed sheets to be carefully washed and ironed. I dream of blogging afternoons with grass beneath my feet, friends to meet for sunny salad lunches, coffees to sip with my eyes softly closed, newspapers to divulge in. Research to carry out, farm shops to visit, long journey's home to take, films to watch, languages to indulge in, futures to plan. But I know deep inside that the painful sting of boredom and loneliness reside in these hours: they snag at first, clawing the skin and only until weeks- months- have passed do they seep into your bloodstream and pollute your thoughts. 

There is a fine line between these lives that lives the perfect balance of challenges, contempt and peace. Three day weeks that breathe personal space and fulfilment. Even better, in years passed: renovating, renting, interiors and private businesses moulded from clay. With creativity, background knowledge and an eye for design - and a business head to rival no other. I often daydream that we could make this work. We laugh about giving it all up for a gelato bar on the golden coast. Could we live off rental? Is it sustainable? Will we be able to enrich our children with the luxuries we have been granted growing up? I believe so. ISA's saved carefully, a family used to checking stocks and shares, already with two properties in my name. At the same time I still feel like a child, unable to bear the weight of a business on my shoulders. It hurts my head on a monthly basis. I just have to keep repeating: just keep pushing forward, it's only a year. 


Flickr Photostream

Twitter Updates

Meet The Author