I'm currently reading a biography of Jane Austen in which the author describes the weather in terms of the laundry. She writes that the laundry froze before it dried.
This got me thinking about weather. It's so cold here that sometimes I come inside and feel cosy in temperatures that once would have had me sitting ON the heater (14 degrees).
Anyway, the other day I decided to make a cake. I took the butter out of the fridge and softened it in the microwave so that I could cream it with the sugar. Then I quickly dashed outside to do something that I can't remember and which is irrelevant to this story.
I was only gone a couple of minutes but when I returned, the butter was hard again.
I quickly realised that 14 degrees probably wasn't that warm after all and 2 minutes in such a temperature is a very long time if you're soft butter.
This got me thinking about time.
Like many others, I never have enough of it.
I used to blame this lack of time on work. I used to promise myself that if I ever had the opportunity not to work, I'd have lots of time to do the things I always wanted to do.
And I knew exactly what I would do. I would grasp it, clutch it, never waste it. I would write, read, write, cook, write, paint, write, etc.
Obviously, I've been telling myself for years that I would write...
And now here I am without a fulltime job but with a very ideal environment and I still don't have enough time to write.
My learnings for today?
That I should never allow myself to be distracted after I've softened the butter (at least not until Summer) and that I should never allow a day to pass by without writing.