Living Deliberately

We were talking about the birds singing on the way to nursery the other morning. Walking to school, or nursey in this case, is really cool. I like it a lot and gives us a chance to chat about this kind of thing. M is beginning to differentiate between the calls and songs of birds and BB is noticing the different kinds. I love seeing them notice the various sides of the natural world and birdsong is such an important one due to it being so prevalent and beautiful. Melodious and harmonic, off-key and discordant, both out of time and in it. Puts human efforts to make music to shame. Even Mozart could not write such a beautiful morning concerto for us.

And with last night’s storms, summer has passed. Cloudy today, don’t know if the sun will be out but the sunshine clearly helped yesterday’s momentous day of my first wild swim. The warmth of the water made it not uncomfortable and though my heart raced when it got deep, I just stuck to the shallows, nothing going over my chin and tip toes. Game changer? Maybe…

Who is without principle? It seems our leaders, the very people we elect to lead by example and none, none, act in ways that are honourable or valorous. None. They all sell our country off bit by bit, by land, sea or spirit. Hell they would sell the air of they could and probably have. We look to appease keyboard warriors at every step of the way and look for inspiration at foreign countries who are just as fucked, if not more so than us. People are fed up of being led by donkeys and we need strong leaders who we arguably haven’t had since our medieval kings. Imagine if Robert the Bruce was Prime Minister, constantly carrying his trusty axe by his side. I’d vote for that regardless of what party it was. You can see the appeal Putin has. A judo black belt over any private school chicken fucker any day of the week.

How does nature correspond with our deeds? What should we be learning from it to better our way of living? Be better prepared maybe, take care of our young better. Feed them and nourish them and let them crawl or soar when they can. Push them to be the best they can be to survive. Or maybe the biggest lesson we can take from the animal world is to be resourceful and make do with what we have, to live lives that are uncomplicated, want for nothing and to concern ourselves with only ourselves and our immediate tribe, whomever they may be.

Odd that I was just thinking about something similar and how ‘this’ is my work. Life is work. This morning I’ve got the girls to nursery and done a heavy squat based workout. This to me is far more fulfilling than my actual work, which is hard to give a fuck about at this time of year. My day to day work is important, the bigger picture is less so. Is this why I have multiple journals but can’t get a PRD finished until the last minute.

Public opinion and private opinion are two very different things. Especially in our jobs. We have to tow a mainstream approach whether we believe it or not, knowing well that it is all bullshit, based on lies and not working at all. We all know that people are to blame yet no one is allowed to say that. Children aren’t born in a certain way they are created. Schools get by as best they can, they are hard hard places to work in from the top down. Yet we keep to the positives because we have to, otherwise we’ll all be swamped under in this mire that society has become. Schools, teachers, the last bastion of normality, or a service in need of a total revolution.

You can tell the pupils who get outside to play this time of year. Even if it’s just in the garden, they are brown, they have skint knees and insect bites. One is brown all over. Its ace, and healthy, and good to see. Others are all the same pale white they are during winter. I’ve had a few days out in the sun now and while I am never in the scud, my arms neck and face are bronzing and healthy.

Today it rained, it was torrential, tropical almost, reminded me of the storms in Costa Rica. But then it dried up just as quick. It’s warm now and I trained today. Sparred harder than I have before probably and sweated more too. Was good. Hasn’t rained in weeks too.

Where are my companions? One is proving to be most useful and certainly a driver in the music. Is that what we want in a friendship, someone to push us and to drive us forward with something we wouldn’t normally want to do? It certainly helps, and he’s probably the only one doing this right now. I do appreciate any offers of outdoors, martial arts or musical experience. I’m really enjoying the masters sessions at jiu-jitsu. These are companions. The others never call.

I’ve heard the claim often. ‘I like to be away from people’, ‘I like the outdoors’, ‘I love to camp’, ‘to be outside’ etc. whatever it is, most of it is crap though. Give anyone who claims they don’t like being around people 48 hours of being near no one and I doubt they’ll claim that again. For if you didn’t you’d already be doing it and not talking to me or posting it for likes. What I love is when you see unlikely people in the outdoors, especially women on mountains. This is fantastic and they no doubt have way more resilience than I do. Few children fail to thrive either.

Transformation. In the same way we can be eagles, we can be owls. Why ignore the night? Why can’t we be fighters as well as writers, strongmen and fathers who clean nappies and get up in the middle of the night to toilet train their toddlers? This to me is strong men. Those that can fight and train and lift, yet keep a clean house for their children, ensure that they are correctly nurtured and thriving and do not ignore or leave the ‘chores’ to the females.

This is a busy and full man, in the way a samurai can also be a poet, we can also take this role into our children’s lives. It is unselfishness in action, pure action. The idea of the provider, the patriarch that just brings in money is nonsense, it is not enough. That is not even half the job, and arguably the easiest part. Deal with the other half and still get up and do your job the next day. That’s a strong man.

There hasn’t been rain for several weeks now, maybe three, quite a long time for us here in Scotland. I’ve been keeping the sprinkler out, partly because the girls like it and partly because it’s easier to remember to water the garden when you can see it and I’m not pulling the hose out every night. So the back garden looks good. The ground, the grass, however looks parched and is yellowing at the edges about half a metre in from the pavement and perhaps everything isn’t as green and lush and beautiful as it should be. Who waters the grass and fields? Who is the sprinkler of the trees and hedgerows? The bather of the birds and the feeder of life. Where is he just now?

Yes, this is June, it is finally here. The weather is warm during the day but still cool in the mornings and at night. Everything is green and full and lush and other descriptive words for the fullness of summer growth. But it feels like it is disappearing already. Why is that once it comes it is already on the decline, instantly away as plans are made and life takes over and exhaustion kicks in and survival mode is automatically switched on. Where are these long June nights of our childhood when playing never ended and the evenings went on forever?

Now it’s get the kids to bed, do one thing, and then the need for sleep has arrived. You choose; it can be the house, work, chores, fitness, hobby, one thing, you get one chance because when it’s done you going to want to pass out exhausted. Its June, the month of so much colour and promise that always delivers on the tiredness but never in its promise of achievement. June, the best and worst of months as you are aware of it flying by without looking up to enjoy the sunset, sunrise or the warmth of the afternoon.

As we roll along through this term, the end is in sight now, four weeks to go, twenty days in total, the idea of wilderness appeals more and more. I need to get away at some point to the high lands, not just the capital H, but the land that is higher and further. A solo camping trip, just me and the dog, sleep during the sunny part of the day and walk and travel in the cooler parts of the morning and evening. Explore. Make a base and then use that systematically. Keep my needs small and similar to his. Sure the midges might be a problem, and the sun too if the last wee while is anything to go by, but there could be mileage in this. Guerrilla hillwalking 2.0.

Leaves cover. What is our cover? Do we hide behind masks of invulnerability, or readily admit our own failures? Must we try to put a positive spin on everything, or can things be written off as mistakes, failures, learning curves, or just plain shit? Experience, whether positive or negative is just that. Why try to cover it?

The way we have learned has changed; rapidly in the last ten years. Education stayed relatively the same until fairly recently. The way I was taught at school was not that dissimilar to that of the Victorians. Unlike now, the idea of tablets, screens and constant outdoor education would be laughable to both 1885 and 1985.

Now we tend to learn by screen, by video, by online courses, and this of course makes everyone an expert. Google can answer any question instantly and intelligence for its own sake is seen as a negative thing. Books are forgotten, or worse, and research is another word for online searching. What a world. What a wonder.

Not ready to leave anything, and why would I want to anyway, yet the idea of a walk is very appealing. Just a walk to someplace or no place. It doesn’t matter, but the more scenic the better I suppose. The more wilderness the better. The less people the better. It’s hard to get away from the effect of humans in this country, especially if you know what you’re looking at, but that’s not to say it isn’t any fun. It is however, a requirement.

This interconnectivity is what we’re after. It’s funny how prevalent in nature it is. Of course it happens naturally and is how eco-systems survive. The fungi grows on the dead tree. The bird carries the seed. The wolves allow the trees to grow. Yet humans have to think far too much to realise this rather than let it happen. We are sedentary, we have to force ourselves to activity. It’s hard to get up and go to the gym after a hard day’s work, it’s very difficult. Sitting down and watching shit on Netflix is the easy choice and it’s the choice our body wants. It also wants us to devour all the crisps and ice cream.

But what it wants is not what it needs, for in a few months the body would be used to going to the gym instead of sitting down, and it will thank you for it. You’ll move better feel better and perform better. Likewise our bodies, or maybe here I should say minds, want that pizza or chocolate, yet all that does is help us gain weight we don’t need. If we can get our wants and desires to a standard that mimics the natural world, working in tandem with our bodies, maybe we’ll feel better about the natural world.

In December 2022 I came to the end of a year of directed journal writing. It had become a habit I didn’t want to lose but was unsure of where to take it next. I decided to try and focus my writing away from ‘me’ and force myself to write more about nature and the outdoors. How I was going to do this was a problem, without the content merely recalling my walk that morning or discussing the weather.

Within the last few days of 2022 I came upon the book The Daily Thoreau, a perfect collection of daily quotes from the man behind the phrase Live Deliberately. You can read more about his influence on Last Wolf here. https://lastwolf.co.uk/walden-or-life-in-the-woods/

I began my 2023 journal using these quotes as a springboard for my own thoughts. Sometimes I mention his words specifically, a lot of the time I don’t. Sometimes I don’t understand what he’s on about and others it’s just me rambling. A lot of it mentions the weather and dog walks, but remember, the vast majority was written very early in the morning so probably won’t make much sense anyway. It is presented as un-edited as possible.

Live Deliberately,

Barry

If only everyone saw their own reflections perhaps some people would realise they have no business being around others, especially children, and do the honourable thing and take themselves off. People are cunts and sometimes I’ve had enough of them. Today was one of those days. No child should be spoken to the way I heard today, none. And that wee neddy prick needs hung up by his nuts for a very long time. Preferably until the useless waste of life-force runs out of him.

Interesting way of seeing the world and your life through books. I’ll forever associate War & Peace with BB’s broken leg. I’d always planned to read it in the event of that ever happening to me which is odd. Needful Things, although the majority of it was read at home, I finished on a wander of Colonsay. So for that reason a memory of that island is tied to that story. What other books are entwined with memory? On the Road the Teenage Years for sure.

Ooft aye, that is heavy going, but HDT is right. And if states are to have any then he should’ve been left alone. Horrendous times no doubt for a lot of people nigh on 200 years ago. No one alive can possibly know this man, but he should be free.

(Upon reading of the trial of a man who had escaped slavery to Massachusetts only then to be arrested and returned to his ‘owners’ in Virginia).

Being serene is more important to me at this point in time than being successful. I don’t think this is the time of year where many plans are made or goals achieved, it’s just survival and helped along by a spirituality that I don’t feel is as needed at most other times. Was it not this time I first got into Buddhist teachings and Christian readings? St John of the Cross. Chess is a somewhat spiritual practice when taken seriously enough as it mostly has to do with thought and processing these thoughts. Less about the heavens. Perhaps I need to turn to my spiritual guide the RZA and listen to his meditation album. Whatever it is I find that thinking, deep thinking, really helps me get through this final push into the summer, the most tiring term bar none that seems to have all the shit in the world going on in it.

Civil Disobedience is the bit that raises HDT isn’t it? He goes from being this nature writer who people think went to live in the ‘wild’ and then mock him because he was a) wealthy anyway and b) only a mile or so from the town. They’re missing the point of course and in this he showed how anti-government he can be. It would be interesting to have him around now and hear his comments on how many more of our freedoms have been erased since 1849, which is not far off from two hundred years ago. Mental.

‘Nature is stronger than law and the sure but slow influence of wind and water will balk the efforts of restricting legislatures. Man cannot set up bounds with safety but where the revolutions of nature will conform and strengthen, not obliterate them.’

Revolutions of nature. Etna erupted yesterday, Catania airport closed, though not for too long. Man finds a way around these revolutions to make money from it.

Is god the last bastion of the insane, or the truly sane? Am I insane for rejecting it? Sometimes it feels like I have closer connections to a fundamentalist Christian than I might think. Marriage is sacred, not necessarily in a religious sense but in a spiritual one; my marriage anyway. Family is important, my family, my children. I want to be with them, hell I’d home school if I could, and if it came to it I would no problem. I don’t want to farm them off to someone else to raise.

Although extra vagant is an odd term, not one I’d use, or most people would get, (it probably means something a whole lot different in the urban dictionary), I tend to agree and maybe I am coasting. Being too comfortable once more. Barely getting on, getting through, surviving. That’s what this past few months have been about. I need to get back to thriving, pushing myself and to go to extremities with it. Don’t rely on what is purely comfortable and if you get some flak for it, so what. LW Militant Wing.

I’m glad now I signed up for the vanguard which starts next week. That should shape me up, be a bit more responsible with my time, get my mind focussed on training and improving and I’m also glad I said to G about this BJJ thing on Sunday. And I’m thankful for RC pushing me to do it. It’ll be fun and something I’m not used to doing. But again, fuck it, I’m 45. 46 soon for fuck sake! Now the band thing is lingering and so is issue two of The Thorn, let’s get that done, extra extravagantly. Take it more extreme.

We watched a bird of prey fly above the Peat Moss. Sitting on Seafield Law, the three of us tracked its quest for food as far as we could see it. It came pretty close, just over the field next to us, then in a matter of seconds it was on the fringes, scouting the area about half a mile away. A bold black dot on the light grey cloud in the distance. We could still watch it float, hover, hunt, then gracefully turn with the wind and come a bit closer back to us.

We spotted it later on too, a bit back to the entrance of the village. A buzzard most likely, but maybe bigger. A hawk, that’s what they thought, but what do they know. Too big for a sparrowhawk. Had SF been there I would’ve gone with what he said. Either way I’m not 100% sure, just definitely not an eagle. That would be a sight, the eagles flying over West Lothian. I told them a story about seeing one in Knoydart and they didn’t care. Too busy throwing stones.

It had rained overnight so everything was full and lush and green. It smelled of wet and damp, of flowers and weeds; the sound of birdsong and my own footprints only. Too early for the traffic yet, too early for the construction site to begin. The rabbits sat nibbling at breakfast, a ginger cat crept in the bushes, pink and green and yellow. I felt every footstep in my bare feet.

Is wishing yourself sitting in a rainbow akin to wishing you’d win the lottery? The most sublime light you could bathe in, the most beautiful and important moment of your nature loving life. Cloud inversions are cool to the mountain climber, go enough times and you’ll see it regularly. The northern lights for anyone who doesn’t live in the north, and shooting stars for anyone who never walks at night. Natural phenomenon with galactic implications. To see a shooting star is to watch worlds die. It is an abstract and absurd thought. Bathing in the light of a rainbow whilst unicorns dance around us less so.

A shark is so unlike a human. Of all the animals with the exception of things like jellyfish and insects, sharks must be up there with the least human kinds of instincts. Pure predator, so unstoppable   they literally can’t or they will die. A human must stop, must rest, and must recover, even elite athletes. If a shark’s habitat is threatened, as they all are, they only move a short distance away. They are always there and never cowed by man and his progress. Speedboats frighten the whales, are sharks ever frightened? That’s why they’ve survived and will do long after we’ve gone.

And so it goes. I am determined not to let my dip this year in the summer term last as long as it usually does. I’m glad RC chased me up tonight and I should get back to jiu-jitsu on Monday. I’m good at it, but I want to be better. The better you get the more you realise you have to learn, and I was in a good swing there. The longer I take off exercise, the more lethargic I get in body and mind, and the fatter I get and the worse I feel. It’s a very fast and slippery downward slope. Get back to it you twat.

Your scheme? I never thought of it like this. At the moment I don’t feel like I have one. Under the pretence of recovery, which is an excuse for laziness and mental lethargy, I have turned more to my novel and though the writing part of that is slow, meandering, the thinking part is constant.

Constant plot niggles in my head as I realise how expansive the universe is and how little it makes sense story wise, gaps I need to fill somehow. Just writing the thing won’t work, this has to be planned. How G.R.R. Martin manages to hold the whole of Westeros together is a wonder. So the novel, the fiction, is the scheme, not me, not Last Wolf, a different world. The same world.

Have we done ourselves a dis-service by allowing science to completely dominate our understanding of the world? It seems now there is only science; no faith, no belief, no religion, but then no myth, no fear. Everything is known and everything proved or debunked. We have forgotten instinct, knowledge, natural law and replaced them with facts and easily discernible Wikipedia entries. Compared with belief, science is dull and lifeless. And perhaps we need a bit more magic in the world to increase our sense of wonder and less know it all.

What is a flag, a symbol, an emblem, the dread banner, a warning, a reminder? This is yours, or this is coming for you. In our case the saltire can be a reminder of our proud nation, which will one day hold its head up high full of pride once again, once the shackles of that other reminder has had the blue background and the white cross seen by Oengus in the sky so many centuries ago, swiftly removed.

Centuries mind. We are no place that didn’t exist until after the Berlin Wall. Nor are we a nation created through the fall out of a civil war. Nor have we been newly discovered by white settlers. The Scottish flag looks over its landscape, delighted in the fact that its time will come once again, that it has not been forgotten by its people and that it is a far more powerful image than that of its peer group, as people turn away from its pomp and majesty and assumed superiority in their droves, long live the saltire and St Andrew for Scotland.

And with the spring coming to summer, solstice is only six weeks away, it seems it never happened and our chores have not been done. A spring to remember?

Each dew drop contains the planet itself. Everything is connected, from the smallest insect to the largest predator, from the tiniest dewdrop to the most ferocious storm. All we are is dust in the wind dude.

I agree that a walk just after the rain, when the green glistens and shines, is the best time. However, it is also annoying for two reasons. One is that you get wet, especially if your footwear is unsuitable. I usually don’t, but sometimes you get caught out with holes in your old shoes. And you can’t really sit down anywhere if you don’t have waterproofs on. The other reason, (though that seems to be three now) is the dog prefers to eat the grass when it’s newly wet with the fresh rain and he’ll stop for ages to munch on it until I get him on the lead. And maybe that’s the reason why he’s in the garden just now.  

Frame of mind, something that this week I have been struggling with, last few actually. Perhaps I feel beaten with all that’s been going on, and then my body has actually just broken down to be actually beaten. My back hurts, my right foot hurts, my left arm from the shoulder down but mostly at the elbow hurts, my knee and hip and groin on the left hand side all hurt. But that is only the body, I think it’s infected my mind and it is this that needs to change. Healthy body = healthy mind. Take steps to get back on track.

Have I found my voice?

I have no energy, zapped, puggled, low, sore, and generally just shite. Maybe what I do have is a virus and that is making my body shut down today. I thought it was fine yesterday but today has been groggy, sluggish and slow. Migraine though thankfully not a fully grown one, heavy eyes and lazy body lazy mind. Hopefully tomorrow shall be better.

Where are my affections? I almost ran out of them yesterday. Whether it was the early wake up or something else I don’t know but it made me feel vulnerable and not in control. My tolerance level was near zero. My patience nil. Anything would spark it off, the near constant ‘daaad’ adding to the constant not listening to the answer was driving me insane. And I’ve never felt like that before.

Perhaps this dull pain I’ve been experiencing hasn’t helped but that can’t be an excuse. Nor should being tired. I’ve had worse sleeps and that should not be the cause of losing the rag all day long. Better today, though I feel now like the anxiety has returned and my nerves are all over the place. And that’s to do with calling the docs. I always hate doing that, and why I don’t do it until I have to.

And the water will be rippling somewhat today as our holiday turns into a wet one once again. When will this weather let up and give us something more appropriately seasonal? We’re fed up and need a bit of warmth in the air and sun on our skin.

Revolutions are not instant. They are a build-up of years of a people or populous who have had enough. Society today is past-revolution. The social control appearing in China, a place where you think it would be most likely, will ensure revolution will never happen and correspondingly, the longevity of the regime. The Arab uprisings of a few years ago, the Arab spring was it called, seemed to lead to very little change, at least from our international perspective. However this geo-politics or whatever you want to call it has long been forgotten by me as I look to other things, I could very well be wrong.

A true revolution in this country is far from being likely, however it is maybe the thing that we need the most. Something radical to change the fact that we’ve been fucked by Tories forever and we still collectively pull the wool over our eyes. We still pay for a monarchy the vast majority of us don’t care for or even want. The person that stands up in the Scottish Parliament and suggests getting rid of it as soon as possible would be very brave indeed. Or at least a restoration of the rightful one! Viva la republique!

And what are my observations of the historic events of today. A country that has surprised even me with its disinterest in all things monarchical. Even in Blackburn yesterday I saw one house with coronation bunting out. This is a place where union jacks are flown regularly and Rangers bunting appears on lampposts whenever they win something. A country where even its supporters don’t even care too much. No schools I know, granted I’m not in many, have done anything to celebrate and according to TikTok, that bastion of the news, 35 people have camped out to get good views along the Strand. 35. More sleep out for the birth of a new IPhone.

Anti-royal protestors have been arrested before their protests even began and their placards seized. £14 million on a carriage when people can’t afford to heat their homes is a fucking outrage, but this is the nature of monarchy. Moanarchy. Moananarchy. They don’t care, why would they? We just care more now about everybody else and are disgusted that foodbanks in a country like this have to exist. So yeah, it appears to me that I’m not the only person turning off this shit show this weekend. Thanks for the holiday, but no thanks.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t been that way in a few days, tending to walk to the west in the evening rather than the east, but there has been quick and remarkable change around us. The weeds, ferns, thistles, dock leaves, nettles, grasses, dandelions etc. have all suddenly appeared en masse in glorious green, filling the air of smells and insects. Still chilly this morning but spring has indeed sprung, visually at least.

The sound echoing through my ears is not that of the echo or church bells, nor the squabbles of geese, ducks or even the whistling of trees in the wind. The constant voice of ‘daaad’ in my head will be replaced with the constant voice of ‘Mr Huuuughes’ for ever until it is again replaced by the sound of silence.

How do I feel about going back to school today? Fine. Normality must be resumed. Also not fine. Why should anyone raise my children but me? How does society put me in a position where when I want the best for them I need to leave them? If they were not mine, I’d get more help. Still, normalcy must happen, if only so we have the energy to be subversive.

While I reflect I find that there is myself and more that needs to be done.

When I look in the mirror what do I see but something that needs to be improved upon.

Imagination, fancy and reason are some things to savour on this May Day. Spring is a time of action and imagination and normally I am much more reinvigorated by this time of year than I am right now. I just feel beaten, tired and weary of everything at the moment, and seem to be requiring a lot of rest. My bjj is continuing, though my workouts aren’t. I have not the energy, nor the will. And as for the ability to do or complete tasks, out of the question. We’ll see this week how work becomes.

What do I get from drinking other than several days lethargy and feeling crap from eating crisps, sweets and junk food? The satisfaction of the glass of wine or whisky, it doesn’t seem worth it anymore. I like it, but it does far worse to me and my body for it to be worthwhile.

Not having anything to do! Pah! Imagine. And I suppose that is a problem for most folk who do not fill their minds and days with art, or music, or whatever it is, they actually have nothing to do. Once the chores are out if the way they resort to scrolling, or video game playing or something equally as useless. Actually not the something else, just that. The former for females, the latter for males seems to be a pattern. It’s funny how people can be such great individual musicians these days but don’t make great bands. Maybe cause they spend their time making content videos rather than practising their songs.

I have loads to do, tons, but when I don’t want to do any of it, I read. I just want to read my book. I’m enjoying it. I get a lot out of it, it is what I want to do. I get a sense of enjoyment in its completion, especially as it takes its place on the shelf. But the list of stuff to do keeps adding up, as for an artist or musician, it must. Surely it’s always there and that is a positive thing. To proclaim ‘I have nothing to do’ is the same as announcing your own death. I proclaim that I am alive.

And which one do I embody most, the philosopher, the poet or the naturalist? None or all. I used to write more lyrical works but that has taken a back seat. I suppose I used to write way more, but it has taken a more personal route as I work through a book for the girls. I should really leave this to an occasional dip into style but I do like it and maybe it’s my philosopher side, me exploring me, and getting that out the way.

Likewise this journal was meant to be the naturalist in me, or the nature appreciator, as I am no naturalist, just an observer who likes to keep his eyes open. Am I even remotely a philosopher? Perhaps I philosophise about myself, perhaps I just like to pretend I do.

I’ve just written a short passage for my dad’s new book, the blurb on the back, and it felt good to be productive, to be useful in a way that wasn’t for myself or for LW use too. Had I known they were doing a third volume I might’ve knocked something together as I didn’t get anything in Volume 2. My essay in the first volume appeared without my knowledge or consent anyway, but it does feel good to be somehow involved and to be creative again.

The fence frames, the farm shows distance, the wind turbines scale, the road a sense of grandeur, of awesomeness. Sometimes what we build around our places enhance what we are looking at or give it a kind of relevance that our all too human eyes might not get. It shows a more human experience which is what the majority of us humans require.

But I’ll take a whole bunch of wilderness just now and a walk through the most rugged terrain in Christendom. Throw in an overnight camp looking out at the stars and we’re on.

Comparatively I’m doing all right. Although LW has dropped off this last month it isn’t going anywhere and I intend to get back to it. Family takes priority the now and always, but I really should be using this time to ‘like’ and to ‘share’ as well as watching TikTok videos, but that’s just a load of pish. And why do I constantly compare myself with others, it seems that is the way of man and we have been doing it at least since HDT’s day. This is incubation, or hibernation maybe.

Cold again today, frost on the grass this morning and hail lay on the trampoline last night. Was it really this time of year when I camped and the farmer at 6:00am said I was off my head because it was minus 1? Was that last year or the year before? Who knows? Pushed BB down to nursery on the buggy which was fun as she was in a funny mood, as was M, and we had a laugh trying to eat insects on the way down the road.

My hand hurts like a mother fucker. The whole left hand side of my arm from shoulder down hurts and my middle knuckles have swollen up. I’m wearing that weird tubey grip thing that makes me look like a mummy and feel all bumpy afterwards. I had thought I had tennis elbow but now I think it’s some sort of ligament damage. I have a lot of jobs to do today which is good and me and B are going to go for coffee and cake. Maybe I’ll buy her that George Ezra cd she wants. Being off work is quite shit but it has its advantages.

Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes. I love this. I have never been one for dressing up in fancy togs. Clothes are utilitarian, they provide a purpose, a uniform. The last piece of clothing I had to buy was a gi, and even that I got from Vinted. It’s a belter though and I really like wearing it. I’ll get through with what I’ve got. What I do seem to wear out is shoes though. This year I’ll probably need a new pair of walking boots and will definitely need a pair of wellies for the winter. My running shoes have seen better days and may not be any good when its wet but they should last a few hundred miles yet. Hopefully.

Even my main trainers, black Nike Air Force Ones for anyone that cares, size 10 with the white swoosh, look a bit shit just now, but maybe I’ll just get a new pair next summer. I like to run shoes into the ground, quite literally. I had to hang up my last pair of Meindal walking boots with reluctance when there was no more edge on the sole, and this is probably quite important when walking in the Cuillen, hence my newer pair. But even they’re coming to the end of their life. But as far as looking dapper, forget it, not interested. I’ll need to spruce up for a wedding this year and the Knights of Malta Ball and that’s it!

Am I being true to myself? I mean really and truly, brutally honest or just pretending to be, even within these pages, and the others. Am I writing for myself or for the chance that someday, someone might read them? The only likely person to that, would be myself. Or M and B when I’m long gone. Maybe that’s what it is for. They have a book of their own, and there will be more in there in the future no doubt.

Is it about increasing my skills or habits, tapping into my own mind, or subconscious even? Or for the pure vanity exercise of ‘yes I’m a writer you know’ with added appalling accent? Don’t get me wrong I’d love to make a living from this desk, but is that even enough? What then is this all even for? Am I really bettering myself in page after page, or have I exhausted this particular interest? Do I need to be re-energised into it, as no doubt anyone else would, feeling quite as flat as we do at the moment? It is a struggle to keep going, and this is without me even going into work! It is likely I’ll need another week off if BB is going to get the chicken pox as well. It seems so. This isn’t what this book is even for.

I need to re-establish my relationship with the written word. Writing, even in here, on a daily basis has been a struggle of late, let alone a page or two in my bigger books or writing anything long form. And when did I last look at my novel? At least a year ago I reckon and maybe even longer considering the first of that happened in 2020. Maybe tonight after my workout or run I should dedicate to writing some creative words down, for it is my main way of expressing myself and generating my creativity is it not? Is it the pinnacle of human art, the nadir of experience, for one cannot breathe life into a painting or sculpture like you can with words, like HDT says?

My experience of Tolstoy is different from yours. And the Scots enjoyment of Burns, for example, is obviously more profound than any other nationalities. Words breathe life. Life breathes words. Let’s breathe tonight oh pen and paper. Forget thy worries, sorrows and desperations. Engage with the hands and the brain, the pen in the hand and the written page. Flow, but breathe throughout and remind yourself why you are here.

I know that I am going to be disappointed when these houses go up next to the path. At the moment they are far enough away but the piles of bricks and stones and the position of the new road makes it clear they will be right up to the path and we’ll be walking along someone’s back door soon. If they kept them where they are instead of cramming more in it might be fine. But profit wins over aesthetic and certainly over trees, bushes and fields.

Men dispersed over the earth may have been a thing in HDT’s day, but today, and especially in this densely populated central belt area, we are crammed together, very rarely alone, and true wilderness or wildness feels, and is, a million miles away. The plantations of the west and into the south are bare, the trees felled, the ground depressingly used up and industrial remains, well, remain. Pipes and plastic, discarded bits of metal. Damn I need to explore the Highlands.

To see wild life you must go outside. Plenty of examples here. Someone I know once said ‘I’ve never seen an owl’. Well the reason for that is that you’ve never been outside at the times when you’re most likely to see one. You’re also never in the places where owls go. It is unlikely you’ll see one between the car and front door, nor in Sainsburys and certainly not on the couch. You, as the human need to put yourself in the position of seeing one. I had never seen whales, but then I haven’t spent much time at sea. So I went on a whale watching trip and saw some whales. Bonus.

If you’ve never seen a shooting star you are most likely not going outside enough at night. You are not going to see one looking at the TV all night. And the reality is that if you go outside on a dark clear night and look at the sky for long enough, you’ll probably see one. How this obvious little bit of information escapes most people is both bemusing and fascinating. I’ve never seen that but I’m willing to do nothing about it. I suppose that sums us up, including the mood I’m in right now.

Who can listen to the noises outside from nature when the noises in your head and heart won’t stop? Who cares about birdsong when your little girl is crying about finally getting the cast off her broken leg? Who cares if the sun shines the mum has to take two buses to visit her daughter with the shattered knee? Nature can take a flying fuck this week, for I have not noticed at all.

Ah the seagulls, not that they ever bothered me too much but I probably don’t miss too much about them not living near the sea anymore. The noise they make is incredible at times, unsettling maybe if you’re not used to it, comforting perhaps if you are. I’m home. I don’t think K would like that bit. I’ve seen seagulls swooping and nicking ice creams and three hour fish suppers. This happens all the time to the shore chippy eaters. Nae luck. You see a few round here but only the odd gull on the footy field. A sure sign of living by the sea that racket.

I have absolutely nothing for today, feeling very uncreative despite a good band practice last night at the ‘new’ Coloursound. Today I will mostly read a book and hopefully go to the cinema and wait till bedtime.

We do not lack redeemers. Writing this late in the afternoon today as I had a hangover this morning, the first for a long time, possibly this year, or at least the 1^st January. And I’ll no be doing it again anytime soon. That was enough, that bottle of nice rioja last night to remind me that it’s no really for me anymore. Did I need to get that out of my system as I’ve been toying with a glass or two the last couple of weeks?

But I was enjoying it last night, and enjoying watching that film and listening to Metallica, old not new, as I walked around the estate later on. It doesn’t suit the lifestyle now as not only do I feel bollocks I ate a big bag of crisps I thought I needed. Total nonsense but I did it anyway. Knuckle down dude.

The cost of our living, our lifestyle, does it come at the expense of our lives itself? We work to provide both a safe and comfortable home, and importantly, exciting experiences that will hopefully open up our children minds about the world and give them the opportunity to explore it, to overcome situations, deal with them sensible and turn them into the characters they should become. Would we have more money for this if we say, downsized into a 3 bed house, one toilet instead of 3!

When put like this it does seem like overkill. But this is our house, and it’s always and only been our house. We bought it to fill with kids and family and I think we’ve done it well. We could maybe move to a similar house in a cheaper area, but I think that would be a bad move. The streets here are safe, and although things sometimes do happen here, it’s far from the norm as in other places. The schools are good, the girl’s friends are good, I’d hate for them to be hanging out with a bunch of schemies. I’d give up work if we could afford to look after these two full time ourselves. I think we’d be great at home schooling too. But it’s not gonna happen, we can explore alternative lifestyle in our own way.

I like extremes of weather. I’m not moaning; it’s great to see the sun, the spring buds growing, the grass and the daffodils, leaving the house without a coat, though we’re far away from no jumper. T-shirt weather is really only a few scant days in July, though we have had Easters that have been just as warm in the past. But I like the storms. Sitting here on the study at night with one small light on, a wee dram, some writing or wood burning going on whilst the rain absolutely tips it down outside, the wind batters the trees, or the lightning flashes over the hills.

Snow comes when it’s quiet. The big heavy dumps are the best, ones where we just shut down and only get out for the sledging and the snowball fights. This year we didn’t have much again and the second sledge remains still packaged up. And our Easter holidays are nearly over without suntans or shorts out. It’s still cold in the morning and afternoons but the evenings are nicer. Don’t need to wear a coat to jiu-jitsu, but do need to wear one to nursery.

Out of the shadow of my toil do I look into the light. And it’s funny that when I am work, school that is, my real work, I am actually more organised and get more done. I post regularly on social media (I’ve not done that for weeks now), I train regularly, I find the time to write sometimes, keep up the blog posts, delete emails, promote; none of that shit am I doing now when I’m not working.

Though I suppose at the moment I am technically caring, and is this what life would be like if I did this full time? I’m going to come out of this experience with very little to show for it other than a bunch of books I’ve never gotten through and being fatter. It’s not like I’m going to have half a novel written soon. Or at this rate any records sold let alone any new products. Funny how that works. My point is, it takes regularity and organisation for me to be at my most successful. And I know maybe I shouldn’t be too hard on myself here, as the media likes to remind us ‘these are unprecedented times’, and we’ve never had to deal with this before. Five sleeps and the cast is off and I’m hoping, praying even if I thought it would work, we’ll be back to normal soon.

You cannot serve two masters. And for me this means ditching one, that of drinking booze, for another, that is health, working out, exercise and Brazilian jiu-jitsu. They don’t go together, they don’t complement each other and they don’t work. I do have a love/hate relationship with alcohol. I love the idea of it, the colour of the whisky, the feelings it creates even just looking at it, the flavour of the wine, the shape of a pint glass in your hand.

But I hate how it makes me feel, bleary, blurry, lazy, eating crap, and it takes away your gains. It’s a muscle killer as well as a sleep killer. Still, the idea of me and MC sitting in some cosy pub with big red leather armchairs and not having to go home because he owns it, is an appealing one. The staff can sit at the bar whilst we ponder chess moves by the fire and listen to The Corries on the jukebox. Staying up late playing guitars with DK or the family is another, and some of my favourite memories involve this. It does nothing for my jiu-jitsu though, nor for the childcare abilities, let alone work. You can’t serve two masters, slave to the grind, the bottle or the weight room. I know which one I’m preferring at the moment.

The water is billions of years old. What sights the seas have seen; the fall of dinosaurs, the fall of man as Adam and Eve are banished from the garden. Is it not the same water that recycles itself perfectly to fall anew upon the ground and into our rivers to quench our thirst and grow our crops once again? Remarkable really. A perfectly useful existence. And what a lifespan it has. It’s not the same sea of course, they are ever changing. It is not the same ocean. No one can say they know the ocean for the ocean is always metamorphisising into other shapes and other things, living other lives, increasing its boundaries, or even decreasing them in some places.

You’ve never been on the same bit of water twice. You may think you have, or think you know that the Esk goes this way and the Spey goes that way. But even the stones underneath are changing, moving, the water eats and corrodes the river banks with an everlasting push of constantly renewed force. You do not know this. We give them names but they are meaningless and the words themselves become like the water, not the other way around. ‘It’s Baltic in here’ is an example. It does not know it’s synonymous with cold.

A case for not imposing or even letting your spirituality known to others. It’s funny how what should be a private and very personal thing for people turns into something they need to proclaim. We are far from the days of the crusades. Or are we? For is that not what ISIS and its ilk and tentacles were trying to achieve? Let’s not kid ourselves that shit has gone away either. Why does religion feel a need to dominate, need to be global rather than local? Why did we adopt a religion that came from the deserts of the holy land? Is it just old rather than holy? And so are we.

These isles were populated for thousands of years before JC was born to save us, or died to save us I should say, this day being Easter Sunday. He died for our sins, but then came back to life, so he didn’t really die did he? Came back and led the rest of his out quietly and well. If religion is really all about power, well that makes more sense. I prefer the animists, the worship of the morning, the sun and the trees. These things are tangible, I can see them, I feel their heat and life and power and resonance in this world. And that is what I believe is important. Call it pagan, call it heathen, call it blasphemy, whatever. I call it correct.

The human eye is a miracle and a wonder in itself. Mine are shite. Sure they look ok but would I take a duller pair of eyes for a pair that worked at least semi-well? Absolutely I would. Imagine being able to lie down sideways and look at something. Or being able to open your eyes first thing in the morning and be able to see properly. Or not have to use dirty fingers to take the contacts out when you’re camping, sleeping in the car, or at T in the Park. Or one getting pushed around the back of your eyeball during jiu-jitsu.

But the true wonder and amazement is looking into the eyes of your children, seeing them looking back at you, and knowing that you had a 50% hand in making those eyes. Those eyes that look at you for not only love but safety, warmth, reliability, food and shelter, and love, did I mention that before? For those eyes truly show that, and mine may be duff and defective but they shine with more love now than they ever have before. They may not work properly, but they sure work well at that.

Certainly today can prolong itself, for though we are not still fully mobile, another week and a half to go, the weather outside is beautiful. Sun, a few rounded clouds, brightness and really the first warmth to be felt this year. There is heat in the sun when it hits you, though not really t-shirt weather yet, still glad I had a jumper and tonight will still be cool, but it’s warm and it feels good. Renewing the strength I had before, the drive I once felt and haven’t felt this long three or four or five weeks, I can’t remember.

For my mood has changed with my getting ready this morning in the orange glow of the sunrise. I feel on my way to being mended and can see the end of this drought, a return to some sort of normalcy and normality that we all crave and thrive upon. This is like endless summer, which is great for a week or two but organisation and a planned timetable works so much better for me and my life. Depression is linked to activity, it’s an obvious cure, yet so hard for the person suffering to notice. Being busy, doing stuff, keeping going and exhausting yourself is one of the world’s best medicines. Aware, awake, alive.

Listening. Sometimes I like to walk with headphones listening to suitable forest music, or metal that gives me all sorts of different emotions, powerful and triumphant. Sometimes I listen to podcasts, though I limit this. Sometimes, mostly at the moment, I listen to audio books. I now associate the journey of the brave hobbits, enduring the land of Mordor with the mountains beyond Loch Laggan, for it was there that I last heard their tale; and it carried me on. But sometimes I like to use my ears and listen to the world around me. I can hear for miles and miles…

A pause. A pause on all things there has been. I need to leave my phone alone for a while. Quite difficult in times of Audible and Spotify but we shall attempt to get through a spell without it. My stomach is tight with tension, the need to explode is real. Look after yourself, as it is you that is failing as you attempt to look after everyone else. Who looks after the dad? The dad needs to re-think his own head and slow his heart rate down considerably.

Fair weather, it is hear at last! For today we walked in the sun, and we worked a sweat in the garden and it felt good. It felt good to fully feel the spring, to notice the daffodils and daisies in the sunlight, and while the night was cool, there was heat in the air today.

Who can claim to have a truly original thought? Yes, there has been countless books, words and thoughts on the world even up to 1852, and perhaps the world is saturated with it now, but everyman’s thoughts are their own are they not? Is not everyone entitled to discover these things for themselves and share them with that world without fear of failure, without being mocked for it? Critics critique, artists art. Every viewpoint is unique, unless of course you are deliberately ripping off someone else. If your work is honest, then is it not original? Is it not your own? Authentic is the word truly. Am I? I hope so.

The ideal instead of the actual is something I often think about. Wouldn’t it be better if these mountains were bigger, if that road wasn’t there, if there were more trees etc. Rather than looking at something, anything, as it actually is and appreciating what it is at that moment in time, where it is, or how it is, how it came to be there, how I have come to be there with it. Must we always be seeking improvement? Must we always be chasing something different when really we find comfort in the familiar?

Yes of course we should challenge ourselves, but if constantly looking to improve on things takes us away from appreciating what we actually have, then it is not worth it. We are therefore always at sea, never laying down any solid roots and worst of all, never living in the moment at all. Live deliberately, love the moment.

The spirit of the fog remains as it is still chilly and the ground is hard. Things are wet later on when it melts and it does not feel entirely like spring yet. Rain, rain, rain. Things do not feel entirely like real life.

I love the way M looks at the birds. It reminds me of a memory I have of when I was wee, playing in the back garden at home. I saw the birds, seagulls most likely flying above, circling, and I distinctly remember thinking to myself ‘ah, the birds, my only friends.’ Why I thought this, I have no idea. It wasn’t true, but there must have been an appreciation there that was meant from me and hopefully reciprocated by them.

Now she watches them, names them, says what kind they are and asks me questions about them I can’t answer as I know very little about birds in general. It’s been a long time since I considered them my only friends. But today we went to the bookshop and she found a guide book to birds that we have left in the car, as that is when we see the most. It’s very cute and noteworthy that the appreciation of nature is inherent in children, and lost in adults. Keep it up my girl, we need it.

Splitting the forces of winter, spring is almost with us. Still cold.

It has been a while since I was totally lost. The last time I was on the mountains I could always see where the end was, which greatly helped after my accident. It gave me comfort when my heart was beating fast and my head was not working properly. Being unable to see is so unsettling and confidence draining. That time on Ben Dorain was completely overwhelming and I was really grateful for meeting those other walkers, otherwise I’d probably still be walking in the wilds of Rannoch with someone else’s dog.

Maybe I’d have to live there in a cave or a shelter I’d be forced to build. Don’t fancy my chances of getting food there though. Wasn’t it there that a guy died trying to live a Bear Grylls inspired lifestyle? I remember the media neglecting to mention his mental illness and blaming survivalist shows like his or Ray Mears. Still I was lucky, and the times since, twice I can recall not being able to find my way rather than being completely lost, I’ve turned around. Too much responsibility now to take stupid risks. I always want to return to my family too much.

I miss the noise of the tide on stormy evenings and blustery mornings. That’s why I like to take the dog down to the harbour when we stay at my mums. Late at night, it is quiet, no one is around, the smell of the sea, the sound of it hitting against the pier wall and pulling the pebbles back out with it is my favourite noise. Why we live here when all I hear at night is motorbikes along the road I don’t know.

And this is a nice thought. As we try desperately to hang on to artworks, preserve paintings, sculptures, first editions, manuscripts, even buildings, eventually they will all crumble, inevitably to the mists of time. But the inherent skills and habits of human beings, of nature itself shall remain for far longer than anything we have created. Its sobering to think this; natural inclinations to walk, socialise, make tools, survive, will outlast any Da Vinci painting, as sad as it is to lose any artwork. The artwork that is the natural world shall continue, the sun shall always rise, no matter how high the sea does.

Permit your fellow men to have an interest in your enterprise. This I’m not sure of; would I rather do what I do in privacy and for myself for eternity. The experience of a mountain sunset is enough. I feel no need to share it other than the need that I ‘should’ be sharing it as it does LW good. Now it is obvious HDT wasn’t talking here about social media, most likely he would be appalled at its prevalence and the complete derangement we have all applied ourselves to it.

So why am I like this? Why so secretive that I actually don’t want partners, followers, help? It’s mental. And it’s not that I think the lone wolf concept is particularly appealing either; quite the opposite. Strength in numbers, but what is the number, and more importantly where are the numbers. No one took me out on my first hill walk, I took myself. No one took me to my first jiu-jitsu class, I did that myself. No one pushed me to start LW. The team is me and K, Team Hughes, and I care not who sees it beyond that. This last week has shown me, as if I didn’t know before, who the important people really are, and mostly they live under my roof. Making money at least is unimportant, as long as these guys are good.

And yet here we are in 2023, for us it does not matter for we use neither feet nor wheel that is motorised for the VAST majority of our travel. I have trouble with this. I’d love to walk the girls to nursery every day. It’s a good habit for later life as well I know. I walked to school, and then later sometimes cycled, leaving my bike in granda’s shed or at MC’s house. I don’t think I ever cycled the full way, but that was a good habit. I enjoyed the time and would think nothing of walking anywhere as a young adult, or even now.

One thing this week has taught me is that when crisis, trauma, accidents, things out of the ordinary happen, whatever you want to call this week, you barely notice anything around you. It was windy one day, it blew my hat off into the bushes next to us and nearly again outside the hospital. It was raining a lot of the time, especially that once we came out of the hospital and had to run to the car. Did it matter? Did it fuck. Did I even notice? Not really, we just got on with it. Much like the frog I’d imagine.

I agree with HDT, and the more built up this area gets the less I will notice the seasons change. The less obvious the changes in the trees and bushes there will be because there will be none. How do we notice nature when we are surrounded by well-kept lawns, factored hedgerows and bushes and many many monstrous houses? I live in one of course. Now, yes, we could move more rurally, but I do not want to, nor do I want to lament the loss of wildlife habitat for the rest of my life.

If I lived in a forest would I notice the migrating geese more? The changes in the leaves, the budding on the branches more than I already do? Or do I just need to stop moaning, make do with what I can see and notice harder. The grass out the front of my house changes, grows itself and the things in it. Our garden is popular with birds, helped no doubt by the well-tended jaggies next to us. We are lucky, we are not surrounded by other neighbours, or patios, extensions and pizza ovens. Though I really wish we could just take that jaggy land, increase our garden size, concrete a wee bit for playing and have the rest as an allotment. Now that would be cool.

If I have an antagonist it is myself. That other person that wants to sit with his feet up and eat biscuits.

If all my steps are symbolic then all my words are too. And my words lead to Word Mountain, an impossible task. I know this, how does one scale a mountain with words, and remember we are only a few years into this. A few years is nothing compared to a lifetime of writing, but not all, actually very little, is for public consumption. 10%, if that. 5%? I do feel like doing more of that tonight so perhaps will catch up on a bit. It’s been light here of late and of course that has to do with the unfortunate events of Mother’s Day, just as the tables were turning a little. But we do not dwell in misery in Team Hughes, we are onwards and upwards.

No ice to melt around here; the ice around my frozen heart was melted years ago by the three girls in my life. I love them and am so so proud of every single one of them. How lucky these women make us men. Nothing else today.

Ah, the robin has visited us all year round for so long, he is not an indication of winter at all. We’ve seen him in every season, if not every month but I shall try to keep a wee record of this to verify its accuracy. It’s possible of course that it feels like its constantly winter here and that is why we’re always seeing the robin. Yesterday was good , for after ninjas and a mercifully short time dealing with Mother’s Day crowds at the centre, we all had a nap on the living room floor; me twenty minutes, mum two hours haha! She clearly needed it, but the girls and me went and washed the cars and played outside in the garden which was really good fun.

I’ve noticed my temper being a lot shorter with them the last few days; there is a few reasons for this. One, I’m tired. BB is still getting me up at nights, twice this weekend she has come into my room at whatever o’ clock, and if not this, shouting for me or crying. I’ve had a solid nights sleep once in two weeks. Two, neither of them are listening. BB takes 3/4/5 times and M just argues back. Three, it’s been intense, almost like being a single parent, with thankfully nana’s to go to, so I’ve got fuck all done myself. This changes this week, back to good nutrition and especially bjj and the garage.

Today first I smelled the earth. A foggy morning. Out with Thorin around 8:00am and we couldn’t see much, even into the new houses. B said it was frosty when she looked out her window but of course she meant foggy. Thorin did a loop around the car park and the back of the sports centre to play with the ball. It was here the sun tried to come out. All of a sudden there was a warm glow surrounding us, the very air turned yellow, we were significantly warmed, the grass went greener, and five seconds later the fog had returned. That brief flash of light, a moment of vibrancy and colour across the earth, five seconds of glorious spring morning full of promise, opened and closed again as if the reader had just changed their minds and put the book down.

I hate putting the book down. But the moment had gone, the grey of the foggy morning taken over once again. It was worth being outside for those seconds of spring and the feelings I associate with it, for this is the fore glow of summer, the true start of the year, a little insight into what’s coming and what adventures we have in store for it. Makes far more sense to me to follow the seasons rather than a calendar. January the 1^st has no physical feeling attached to it as the nearing spring.

It’s like we forget Spring. The minute the temperature goes up a bit, the snow melts, the rains dry up a bit, the snowdrops start coming out as soon as the cameras. ‘What a nice day it is’ we say to each other, passing dog walkers, ignoring the torrential rain of the past twelve hours. If there is no wind, it is a nice day. The sun is rising higher in the morning now and I no longer need to put the light on. Are we back to normal? Maybe nearly. Once my head clears a bit and I’m back exercising then I’ll know for sure. The desire is there, the will is not.

But still, each spring we take an interest in these small things again because we have forgotten what they are, what simple pleasures seeing daffodils, bluebells, snowdrops or dandelions brings. I yearn for the meadow and when it dries we shall go to one. And we shall climb hills and walk through woods before the nettles get high. I say it every season but this feeling of spiritual renewal makes spring my second favourite time of year. Is it autumn? Is it the heavy snow and bright northern sun of the dead of winter, or the ease of July nights? Or is it the promise of right now, the lead up to Easter and the arrival of lovely lovely spring.

The hunter regards with awe his game and it becomes at last his medicine. May have been a truism in 1845 but that’s approaching 200 years ago. I don’t know of any subsistence hunters these days, or even if it’s a thing in this country. Could be. Maybe on homesteads in parts of America, Africa, Australia. Russia? Not sure, but anyway, for the most part, hunting is a sport. Not one that has ever appealed to me. I felt bad when I missed that pot shot at that bird when I went shooting once with GG. Or maybe that was him and maybe I missed deliberately.

Now that could be on a new hat, ‘MISS DELIBERATELY’, several connotations there! If you are a hunter and you do not regard the game with awe, you probably are an asshole, and you need to be thankful, give thanks to the creature for giving you, as HDT puts it, your medicine. I’d be far more likely to just go to the shop and stock up my freezer.

Whether we travel fast or slow, the universe does not care. And today I am travelling slow. A game of chess perhaps, and then bed. K has a big day tomorrow, if she makes it to it of course. All fingers crossed for her.

You must get your living by loving. I’ve never been career driven, that much is obvious. If anything I could be more so; but fuck that, I’ve got too much love to give now and my family comes first. Even now in these hard days when it’s just solo dad for most of it, it’s still an absolute privilege to be caring for my family. I love it. I live it. Obviously we must continue to be ourselves and even though my energy is zapped to close to zero, I can continue my interest in chess, and music to a certain extent, though working out has been non-existent this week. But it doesn’t matter. Getting K better, making sure the girls are ok, that’s the important bit.

We’ll get back to normal at some point. This is something my family has brought out of me, that all that superfluous shit is just what it is. Our living is not the selfish, self-centred me me me thing it once was, whether that was career driven or not. And with that change came the loving, and I’m happy, I’m contented, and I have never felt this way so much before. The focus has changed, it had to change, and I am far better off looking at my life in that way rather than one of ‘I don’t have enough time to do the shit I want…’ or similar. You get your living by loving.

I don’t know about a mackerel covered sky but it’s quite heavy with rain this morning and the dog is still in the kitchen, wet and miserable, as he’ll have to stay there until he’s dry and then for most of the afternoon too, which he’ll be most put out at! Looks like he’s in for a day of sulking. It’s actually even worse than it looks outside, which is mostly not the case. Usually it’s the opposite and once you’re in it, it’s not so bad. Today though, it looks ok, the sky has a lightness to it that doesn’t suggest too much rain but it’s one of those days that by the time we’re past the driveway we’re already soaking wet, and that’ll be him in the kitchen all day.

A lot of broken sleep again last night, BB mostly, some me waking myself up with coughing or oddly drooling! I don’t think I can breathe very easily, hence why the snoring is probably worse than usual too. Oh to be back on track, but maybe that’s what today is for; every day is another chance and what better day than when it is absolutely pishing down and we’re meant to be going out in it this afternoon. Better toughen up.

I’m not sure which way my life is flowing right now. I’m tired maybe. My mind has gone into that place where it usually goes in June, solely focussed on one thing that helps me cope with the time of year. In this case, chess and the focus and problems it brings. Am I more mentally and physically exhausted this year than any other long run up toward Easter? With all the strike action, this last term, I thought, had been pretty swift, or certainly felt so, even with three weeks left. I usually have that fall back, that thing to get me through the last few weeks of a year, and it is usually chess, so I wonder why it has presented itself now.

Is it the influence of my class, or am I actually coming down with something, a chess obsession is my way of staying active when my body isn’t. BB has been ill, still shouting for me a few times a night, and now K is ill. It’s been a long, but rewarding and fun day, hence why I’m writing this at night. I do prefer the morning. Swimming and cinema and tea and bath and hair, in the hope that K would be able to rest and get better. But she still has to go to work tomorrow which sucks. Would be good if I could do that for her. Hope it’s not my turns next for the bug. Or M’s.