One of the most read posts on the blog this year has been ‘Busy doing nothing.’ Written on a balmy early summer’s day, this celebrated one of the great joys of self-employment. The freedom to do nothing, if all else is well, and if you feel like it.
Today was another such day. Not balmy and warm of course, but that kind of bright, frosty, blue, brittle sort of day it would be a shame to waste by staying indoors.
I’d worked all of yesterday, had a great time running one of our ‘Finding the work you love’ events where I was helping someone find a new direction in her work. The day had involved long walks and deep discussions, as they usually do, and we’d both ended it feeling satisfied with work well done.
So I didn’t feel over inclined to work today anyway, as intense days naturally need to be followed by something gentler. But when I went out for my morning run and saw just how beautiful the day was, all thoughts of work were entirely abandoned.
And I did what I do when I’m not working or reading or running. I went for a walk.
Next up is Sefton Park. I’ve already run through here today, the route from Sunday’s ‘Urban running’ post. But now I leave the pathways and walk on the bare ground, feeling it crunch underneath my feet in its frostiness.
And I decide to go and visit Sarah, who’s walked to her allotment, Plot 44 earlier. Maybe get a warming cup of tea?
Turns out Sarah’s busy cutting down her sadly past it apple tree, and so doesn’t hear me ringing. Not to worry, I walk on.
I wonder why. Is it too cold for them? Or do they just not like the gulls? Or the ducks, who are quackily occupying what little unfrozen water there is?
Back in the house by mid-afternoon, the light beginning to fade, I read. I’m ‘doing’ the early 18th century in England at the moment. Having managed to get this old and know very little about it. The early Hanoverians, Beggars Opera, Robert Walpole, Henrietta Howard, Jonathan Swift and all. In many ways a raucous time, with a refreshingly nervous nobility. Not much more than 50 years since the people had executed the King, after all.
Content, with Christmas coming on and the working world quietening by the day. We seem to need this deep peace at the darkest time of the year. A small hibernation – with occasional walks. Busy doing nothing, again.