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A Bouquet for the Mums
After listening to me moaning (right) an old internet
friend writes:
're a morning wasted
how many hours months years did your mum waste away waiting
on you
and (referring to the trip we've got planned for next
week) how much fuel will you waste on your warm wild
and welly adventure'
He's right to slap my wrist; where indeed would we be without
mums? But I'm still determined to get back on track with my
Peak District ramblings!
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I sit with a coffee and a slice of
date & walnut cake, drawing the bunches of flowers in the hospital
café. My mum reappears from her appointment just in time
- an hour has gone by and I was just about to go out and put another
£1 in the ticket machine in the car park.
And by the time I get home - having queued at the roadworks traffic
lights for 25 minutes for a distance I could have walked in ten
- Bang! there's another morning of my life gone by.
Wish I could settle down to work again! I'm getting DESPERATE to
get back to the hills. Like this queue of traffic, my life seems
to be one of stopping and starting; not really making progress,
not really being at rest and in the place I want to be. A 21st century
limbo.
It's now over a month since I spent a day drawing in the Peak District.
Feels like I've been in this queue forever. 
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