Old Habits Die Hard

What I've been thinking about this week:

1. Tea
2. Naps

You might remember that I went on a writing course back in October (I wrote about it in this blog). Well, I've just been on another one. 

In the run-up - as well as looking forward to spending a whole weekend writing and chatting to other people about their writing - one of the things I was most looking forward to was having a slower start to my day. Usually, I'm up, dressed and out with the dog before my eyes are fully open and my body is fully upright. 

Pre-dog, I'd shuffle about in my jammies for a bit, make a cuppa and then think about the day ahead. What joy it would be to relive those days! 

Except what I actually did was wake up at my usual time, get dressed quickly and wonder if the tutor's puppy would like to go for a walk. Even when she didn't, I was out strolling around Brig o Dee before 8am* and thinking about my first cup of tea of the day. 

I've never smoked (except in a pub one night in Cupar, which just left me with a sore throat and sore chest. The fact that the smoking took place inside tells you how long ago it was). However, I imagine the first cigarette of the day is very much like the first cup of tea: nothing else hits that high and you spend the rest of the day trying to recreate it. (A tea problem, me? Absolutely not. I could give up any time I like; I just choose not to.)

I got back from the weekend tired but happy. I'd learned loads and met some great new friends but what I hadn't done was sleep a lot. Despite a ludicrously big bed all to myself, my brain had been too busy to switch off and I arrived home in need of a nap. 

I already know that I am always going to be lazy compared with Ivie (I wrote about it in this blog) and this week I remembered that I can never, ever mention that I am tired. 

Luckily, Ivie is very relaxed about the different paces of our lives. A busy weekend for me is meeting friends for lunch, a rummage in Wigtown Community Shop and a dog walk with a friend (which also includes lunch). A busy weekend for Ivie involves a full day of work, lambing three ewes at 1am, coming to bed just after 2 and and then doing it all again. 

He rarely complains so I definitely don't feel I can moan about being tired when I was basically being force fed cake and laughing till I cried at (true) stories of hamsters and firemen. (It's a bit like the unspoken rule of not mentioning you got less than your usual 8 hours to new parents of a tiny human.)

Thanks to Drew, Ivie has had a couple of nights off from the nightshift so we're managing to go to bed at the same time, something we take for granted the rest of the year. His alarm will still go off before mine as I tell myself that if only I could have a day off from walking the dog, I'd be having a lie in with a cuppa. It seems you can't teach an old dog new tricks after all. 

* I know this is mid-afternoon by farm standards.

There's no place like home

What I've been thinking about:

1. Writing
2. My own bed

Last week, I was lucky enough to attend a writing retreat run by Write South West Scotland. I pootled along the A75 to Brig o Dee, met fellow writers IN REAL LIFE, ate lots of food, star gazed at Threave, ate more food, swam at Mossyard and, you guessed it, ate more food. (By lunchtime on the second day, I had changed into my baggy jeans). 

So far, so good. After four days of listening to amazing writing and a chance to share a bit of mine*, I was planning to pootle back along the A75 and be home well before Saturday lunchtime. But dastardly covid had other ideas. 

Ivie succumbed for the first time and, due to my dodgy immune system, it made sense to stay away. Thankfully, the tutor let me stay for another three days (she came to the Spittal for tea a couple of weeks ago and I think it was Ivie's cheesecake that swung it) so we ate leftovers and caught up with Bake Off and Strictly. 

I thought about my new friends and the gigs, plays and exhibitions they'd talked about going to recently and felt a bit jealous. It can be easy to feel that some things pass us by in Dumfries and Galloway. 

But one of the great things about the week was the chance to see our corner of the world through their eyes. 

• I tend to take a dark, starry sky for granted - others had never seen a shooting star before. 
• I live ten minutes' drive from a lovely, little beach - and most of the time there's no-one else there. 
• I regularly see deer and kites on my morning dog walk - some of my new pals got up early every day in the hope of spotting wildlife. 

I finally got home on Tuesday evening to an enthusiastic spaniel and nearly healthy farmer. I didn't think I'd miss the mud and bellowing bulls but there was something reassuring about the familiar sights and sounds of home (the jury's out on the familiar smells). 

Today included a chat with Lupy while I took a rubbish photo of a rainbow and a walk with Isa and Rudi in the swirling wind. It was a good reminder that there's no place like home, even if I am sleeping in the spare room until Ivie gets around to changing the sheets. I might start taking it personally if he hasn't changed the sheets by this time next week.... 

* One of the stories I wrote was about a tight farmer. They do say write what you know.