I hate the fact that I am actually doing this. I hate the fact that I am starting exercise at this time of year. It is so clichéd that it feels like it is doomed. It’s something we all seem to do and something we all seem to fail at. Today it began with a run in the rain; the wind and the rain. It was not an adventurous route; it was a run with an about turn and a run back. The country roads were little streams to slosh through as the wind turned my thighs a slapped scarlet.

I tried to use the run to wash away all the nonsense from my mind. I let myself think of random things. I would love to say that I pondered on how the grey washed sky touched my soul, or how that the occasional bird bursting from the hedgerow inspired me to think about life in all its glory. The reality was that things like running under the cracking power lines send my mind off on tangents about coronal discharge and noise limitations.

After the run I took myself into town for some chores. It was the last day of my Christmas holidays and so I celebrated. I took a seat in a coffee shop with a muffin, black coffee and a good book. I read then watched through the window and oscillated through these two options. There were still chores to be done and they required the shops to be open; the butchers and pet shop. I knew this but refused to look at the time, instead I relied on watching the changing character of the street. I did not want to be a slave to the clock by giving myself another twenty of fifteen minutes, that’s not relaxing at all. Eventually I unpeeled myself from the seat and headed off in time for the butchers but not in time for the pet shop. The new goldfish will have to wait.

New year’s resolutions (inspired by scribbles, jots and musings):

Exercise more do exercise
Spend more time having laughs with the little man
Go on more walks with the lovely Sharon and the little man
Watch less tv dvd box sets
Read more
Read more poetry
Live more poetry
Stand and look at the stars more
Stand and look at the moon more
Try not to go mad by looking at the moon

Last night’s waxing moon through the little man’s sky light.