I do have to say that this weekend has been the best set of journeys up and down the M1 I’ve ever had. I’m not sure if that is down to the new(ish) car – an automatic Ioniq – or people just not being incredibly odd for a change. There were also far less roadworks, which is an added bonus.
Its good to be home though. Lady M has tweaked her back a bit so we’re chilling out with pizza and the second episode of Critical Role – punctuated occasionally by her muttering, or my wincing as I catch where I’ve gashed my hand.
Walking wounded? Us? Well, its about par for the course. As nice as it was to get out of London and some fresh air into our lungs, there’s no bed like home
There really is nothing quite like your own bed to stop and relax, no matter how comfortable other beds have been. The shape I leave in my own mattress feels like a while body hug when I get back, and tensions I’ve only peripherally noticed begin to ebb away.
Perhaps that’s why, after crashing to bed for a couple of hours when we got home, I’m already feeling lighter and ready to return to work in the morning. That’s not to say I won’t be grumpy and stressed when I do, but for the first time in about a week or so my neck doesn’t hurt.
It could, admittedly also be tied to having got through yesterday, and so there’s a sense of a new start – or it could even be the prosecco that Lady M and I have shared this evening.
A little from all three columns I suspect.
I’m home, surrounded by my books, journals, fripperies, and little luxuries. I’ve spent a couple of days with my loves doing Christmas shopping, eating, and gossipping. I’ve about a month of work to pile through, and then I’m off until the new year. Right now? That feels good.