How often have you heard the phrases,
‘I’ve never been busier than since I retired!’ and
‘I don’t know how I ever found the time to work!’ ?
Clichés, right?
Perhaps not. While I am far from ‘retired’, it has now been two and a half months since I appeared at a set time at a place of work, in order to do a job for someone that was not myself. I extricated myself from that very enjoyable, but time-constricting, life in order to catch up with neglected projects and concentrate on new ones; I expected large numbers of deliciously empty hours to open up in front of me as I slid out of bed each morning with a choice: what will I do today?
Nothing could be further from the reality, and I have barely had time to catch my breath since I left home. Of course, I have been doing a lot of visiting, catching up with old friends who absolutely deserve my full attention. A lot of wine has passed my lips, along with the odd cocktail. I have reacquainted myself with old haunts; discovered new corners and reminded myself of how wonderful a proper English summer can be. Sitting out in the garden with a glass of something cool, or strolling the streets in the early evening sunshine without having to battle gales, monsoonal downpours or clouds of midges has been a true revelation. I had all but forgotten that the northwest Highland way of life is not the standard one.
While I always insist I wouldn’t want to live south of the border again, seeing it in its full summer glory while folks at home tell me it hasn’t stopped raining since I left has muddied the waters somewhat. The British Isles as a whole is such a beautiful place; my heart is pulled in many directions. I still feel very at home in Yorkshire, with my oldest friends, and on the moors with the wind in my hair. The Lake District, my favourite place as a child, is still so gorgeous when you manage to leave the crowds behind. In fact, there’s nowhere really like it and it has its own unique light. And the soft, springy turf atop the dazzling white chalk of the South Downs, with their ancient beech and oak woods, make me want to gallop across them on horses again.
You wouldn’t be mistaken if you thought this sounded like a voyage of nostalgia. There has certainly been plenty of that, and much that I wish to write about, if only I could find the time! I did manage to tick one thing off my ‘bucket list’, though, after many years of trying: In July I walked the Dales Way, from Bowness to Ilkley. This is, strangely, in reverse – but for me it was a form of pilgrimage, arriving exhausted in my old home town. It was not without its moments, and I intended to describe it straight away, but as it has turned into a bit of an essay, it’ll have to wait its turn.
Now, after a week in the Dolomites reviewing and rewriting my sketching holiday itinerary there, I am in northern Italy for three nights relaxation – and breathing. I have landed in the most perfect of locations: on a hillside above Bergamo, on an organic vineyard with some of the most delicious wines and most heavenly vegan food I’ve ever tasted. It deserves its own post; let’s see if it gets one!
I shall be reluctant to leave, but the next stop is Tenerife, and, no doubt, yet more wine. Cheers!