The last few weeks have been tough. Four hundred – yes – four hundred – mock examination papers to mark in addition to my usual workload. Incessant rain leading to half of my bedroom ceiling collapsing. The hope of a new job prospect being dashed. No money. Grey skies. Failed New Year’s Resolutions. Little to look forward to.
But there have been small pleasures.
Wandering around the amazing Borough Market for the first time (yes, I know, ridiculous). Brisk walks along Southbank reminiscing with friends. Enjoying the view from the National Gallery cafe much more than any of the paintings inside. Crying my eyes out at this unexpectedly beautiful book. Going for a walk in Winston Churchill’s garden and spotting a patch of snowdrops tentatively unfurling from beneath their blanket of damp earth. Buying my first bunch of daffodils and watching them slowly come to life.
This year has got off to a shaky start, but my vase of daffodils has given me hope for better things around the corner. Less work and more play. Getting started on that novel I keep talking about writing. Feeling the sun on my face again. Easter eggs. After all, all good things come to those who wait…
