Last night I had several writing inspiration moments. Never mind that they came at various times in the middle of the night when I was supposed to be blissfully sleeping away. But they were good enough that I had a wee think over them. Even composed a full paragraph for one of them and revised it before finally passing back to the land of nod.
But when the morning called with two boys wanting their breakfast, I was trudging down the stairs racking my brains as to what glorious inspiration I had meant to write. I figured it would surely return during the day; something would surely cause it to return to the memory panel. Alas, it never has. The black hole of the night swallowed them whole, never to be seen, heard, or thought of again.
Which means, I then felt duty bound to write something. Anything. Surely typing away would jog the eloquent and detailed stories I had envisioned But time slowly slipped away. It was a day of the usual chores: sort cows, check sheep, give a bit of attention to the moulting chickens, check the other lot of sheep, and in the mean time try and keep track what two boys were up to (stop licking the ice for one). And before I know it, it’s post-tea, the boys are tucked up and my bed is calling. I have no plans of waiting up. I know, I know. I hear the uproar by the dedicated hogmanayers. But for me, a late bed does not mean a lie in in the morning. So I’m happy to join in the celebrations at somewhere in the world that has already celebrated and head for bed. For those that like to stay up, that’s great. Whoo-hoo, tonight’s your night. Me, I need my bed.
But what I haven’t done is sort my goals for the coming year. Yes, I have for a long time, had goals each year. This concept was giving to me by sister in law (way back before she was my sister in law). It’s been great fun. Things such as ‘do 20 munros’, ‘read 30 books’ kind of goals. All achievable goals. Some general, some being more edging and getting me to do things I wouldn’t do while stuck in my comfort zone. Not the “I want to lose weight’ type of resolutions some people seem to like. Those lot can have their cake and not eat it. Mine would be more likely to ‘make a three tier cake and ice it like a quarry complete with diggers’ kind of goal. Or the ‘Get up one munro’ (in the past it would have been 30 but cows and kids put a huge hurdle in the way for managing that). I’ve already started a reading list for 2024 (although I completed one of them yesterday). I would try and make sure there was balance in them (physical, mental, spiritual, personal, social, etc) as well as practical. I have absolutely no need to go skydiving. But a weaving course would be great. So I need to go have a wee think for the year to come. And I know 2024 is just around the corner so it’s a bit late to leave it until now to think about it. But the next two days are public holidays, who is really going to be asking for my list before then.
Birchwood Croft, Inverness-shire 