‘Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush’ – Doug Larson (American writer)
Back in England, spring appears to have sprung.
We returned to the green and pleasant land under a rather grey sky and, almost immediately, I was sick as a dog, both spectacularly and violently. Not nice. There are bugs and viruses doing the rounds on both sides of the equator as it turns out, which mess with your schedule as well as your system.
I emerged from the lurgy without much bounce but with an intimidating list of tasks, including investigating improvements that need to be attended to in my Mum’s house in order to keep her safe and comfortable. Writing was off the schedule for ten days or so which felt quite odd but was necessary as I made a slow but sleep-deprived recovery.
Reconnecting with the family is always a joy however, and I’m grateful that the Easter weekend allowed time for us to see some of them and for them to be available. Hurrah.
Easter Monday saw us at Chartwell, Churchill’s old home and now a National Trust property. I’m not sure why I’ve never been there, but it was a Bank Holiday on which the sun chose to shine which makes all the difference. Lakes, woods and a proliferation of early bluebells (even if they are the invasive kind) lifted the spirits considerably, augmented by a welcome pot of restorative tea. A recent stay in Bath offered similar opportunities. There may be less bounce but there’s definitely more spring out there!
It’s hard to believe that we’re already a quarter of the way through the year. A quick review of 2026 so far shows me that it’s been a fruitful time for writing articles and the new format of Writers’ Narrative over on Substack has launched well. Do check it out here.
We’re regrouping again, catching up with a number of people without requiring a screen and getting those pesky ducks in a row (well, two out of three anyway). I have already had a radio slot linked with an article I wrote last month, an appointment with the Surrey WI today, and a manuscript that needs work. All have, or will, require time, attention and a degree of focus that has been a challenge.
However, thanks to the switch to British Sumer Time, it’s more obvious that the evenings are lighter and the temperatures less arctic. I’m not sorry to have missed another hideous European winter and am loving walking in green fields again. A trip to the supermarket confirms the hike in food and fuel prices; I can hear the sound of tightening belts and weary souls. Things aren’t easy, are they?
Amidst all this, my youngest has just turned thirty which is sobering for me as well as a milestone for him. He celebrated across the pond and, apparently, the surprise party was a smash hit.
Meanwhile, I’m wondering whether the low level headaches and memory lapses I’ve been experiencing are a left-over of the concussion I had six months ago. Further investigation is required and being pursued.
I’ve pulled a number of old books off the shelves here and am enjoying the wisdom gleaned by those who left this life decades ago but whose reflections are worth exploring.
One of those is, appropriately, the South African theologian, teacher and writer, Andrew Murray.
When circumstances are less than ideal (most of the time, for most of us, I imagine) I’ve found strength in his conclusions after his own painful trial. He trusted His Maker that he was where he was circumstantially: i) by God’s appointment ii) In His keeping iii) Under His training iv) For His time.
It’s a good perspective that is giving me food for thought and maybe a bit more bounce too.
dancingthroughchaos 