12 months ago I was in India . It seems a lifetime ago. When I was working I used to visit India two or three times a year and much of it became routine for me. But I never lost the sense of privilege and I would have an adventure to see a new place each time. A year ago it was Jaipur, the famed Pink City. It was very hot but also very beautiful.
Twelve months on, and I am no longer working, and certainly no longer hot. I still feel privileged, because near where I live in Scotland we have beautiful countryside and the snow has made it even more energising. But I do often wake up and think of a new adventure to go on, only to realise that the pandemic rules still get in the way.
I feel as if in the past year everything has changed and yet nothing has changed. We have all been through restrictions that I never thought would happen. We have all seen a level of illness and death that feel more like a war than a virus. But in other ways it feels as if someone has just pressed pause on our lives, and as soon as vaccines allow, we will all burst from our cocoons more eager than ever before to seek out new adventures and live the life that has been denied to us these past 12 months.
I guess in reality international travel is unlikely until the world has been vaccinated but even to travel in the UK would mean so much. I want to meet friends and family. I want to meet strangers. I want a hug. I want to be jostled in a busy pub. I want noise. I want to be able to get in my car or my boat and travel without a destination.
What were you doing 12 months ago? Will it be something that has changed your life, or a year to forget as soon as you can?
When the lockdown came down in Scotland this week, I was on my narrowboat. So rather than rushing back, I have spent the week in quiet isolation here, doing just what I have wanted. No dogs, no wife, no son. Just me, Netflix, several books and my euphonium.
It has been very cold. In the daytime and evenings I can heat the boat well with diesel central heating . But overnight I have tucked up under a thick duvet and woken to ice coating the windows. As I climb out of my cocoon I can hear the canal ice cracking around the boat.
It has been a wonderful selfish time. I have done what I wanted, when I wanted, and had such peace. To start with I felt guilty. I felt I should be at the house doing jobs and helping out. But I have realised that the break has been as good for my wife and son as it has for me. For many years I have worked a lot away from home, and in recent months we have been together 24 hours a day. Too much of a shock for all of us. They don’t need me organising their lives, and I am allowed to want time for me.
I return today, and with lockdown will not be back for some time. But I think I have learned an important lesson this week. Sometimes it is OK to be selfish.
What do you think? Do you give enough time to yourself?