Free from desire
The new year sees me feeling pleasingly Buddhist about things. I'm not fixated on outcomes - the idea that you'll only be happy if x happens. My fervent hope is that I can just continue what I've been doing for another year. My resolutions are few: simply to focus on the work at hand, and to be the best Peter Kenny I can be.
After travelling back from London, I was still Lemsipping and snuffling. I decided to at least go, with Lorraine, to Battle of Trafalgar. This is, after all, is but a spit away. There I bumped into two of my neighbours, Mark and Hilary. I've never properly spoken to them before, but it turns out they are both extremely nice. Mark is an accomplished trombonist I've often heard rehearsing, and Hilary a teacher, who often teaches music. We all seemed to have quite a bit to say to one another. Time slipped past and the new year stole upon us over a pint of Harvey's bitter. And nothing wrong with that.
New Year's day was spent mooching about Brighton with Lorraine: a walk into town; stumbling over some Morris dancers, a bracing amble along the seafront where we ate some suprisingly tasty traditional kippers in a roll. And then on to do some shopping. I bought new cutlery and plates, which were both on sale in Debenhams.Until now my cutlery has been eclectic: ie none of it matched. Home to a roast chicken and the gold sofa. And a warm feeling of being able to look forward in hope to this year.
Below some stick-splintering gambolling about by Morris dancers.
The new year sees me feeling pleasingly Buddhist about things. I'm not fixated on outcomes - the idea that you'll only be happy if x happens. My fervent hope is that I can just continue what I've been doing for another year. My resolutions are few: simply to focus on the work at hand, and to be the best Peter Kenny I can be.
After travelling back from London, I was still Lemsipping and snuffling. I decided to at least go, with Lorraine, to Battle of Trafalgar. This is, after all, is but a spit away. There I bumped into two of my neighbours, Mark and Hilary. I've never properly spoken to them before, but it turns out they are both extremely nice. Mark is an accomplished trombonist I've often heard rehearsing, and Hilary a teacher, who often teaches music. We all seemed to have quite a bit to say to one another. Time slipped past and the new year stole upon us over a pint of Harvey's bitter. And nothing wrong with that.
New Year's day was spent mooching about Brighton with Lorraine: a walk into town; stumbling over some Morris dancers, a bracing amble along the seafront where we ate some suprisingly tasty traditional kippers in a roll. And then on to do some shopping. I bought new cutlery and plates, which were both on sale in Debenhams.Until now my cutlery has been eclectic: ie none of it matched. Home to a roast chicken and the gold sofa. And a warm feeling of being able to look forward in hope to this year.
Below some stick-splintering gambolling about by Morris dancers.
Comments
No sod it, the best Matthew Hunt there is.
And it that outcome doesn't happen, I'll get really pissed off.