One Chapter At A Time

An evening walk along the beach at Exmouth last week.

Sometimes when I  think I have too much to write about - a whole weekend-full,  or not enough - like today, I feel tongue-tied on the page and waver about the point of weaving any words together at all.

I slosh around in the shallows - buffeted by my inner critic  - like this serpent log - never making it out to sea and deep, calm waters.

So now, paddling back through my day I scoop up this tiny moment as the one to mark this particular wet Monday in November.

My husband waves goodbye from the gate, all smiles. He's going to visit a friend in another town for a cup of tea. I close the front door which is still overhung with the poles of the scaffolding tower, waiting for the roofer who never comes as he's waiting for a dry day which never comes either.

Carrying a cup of Earl Grey leaf tea upstairs, intending to sit at my desk and start my long to-do list, I find my feet taking me into the bedroom instead. And then I sneak under the duvet, turn on the bedside lamp as it's so gloomy outside, pick up my library book and escape into my version of heaven - reading ....in bed....in the afternoon....alone....for a whole hour.

How did I let that happen? Reading, reading stories..... one of my greatest pleasures...relegated to a thing to feel guilty about..... shoved into the slot of playing hooky......demoted to the end of my day when I'm dropping with tiredness....like now.

Something I want to change.....allowing pleasure back into my days.....remembering what I love....one chapter at a time.

The book I'm reading, the one I don't want to put down, is called The Midwife's Daughter by Patricia Ferguson.