As a child, I could rely on the weather and the seasons. It was always warm and sunny in the Summer and cold and invariably wet in the Winter. At least, that is how I remember it.
It was comforting to know where you were and what to expect, that any deviations would always keep to their own season.
Heatwaves came in the Summer, blizzards in the Winter.
So, why is everything so different these days?
And it’s not just the weather. Our bodies can change radically from one day to the next.
My recovery is a case in point.
I can no longer trust my progress, health-wise or in other capacities. There are good days, but they are invariably followed by disappointing ones. I am being forced to realise that my life will be so very different now.
I had a brilliant day recently, where I wrote my socks off and managed to catch up with most of the everlasting backlog of writing jobs. I looked forward to more of the same progress the following day, but no matter how hard I tried, I could barely summon up the enthusiasm to pick up a pen, let alone write something with it.
Inconsistency is the name of the game these days, and I don’t think I like it at all…
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