Lord Snooty and I have been having quite a bit of fun lately, especially since the summer has decided to actually grace us with it's presence. We've been doing a bit of tearing about in the little grey sports car, eating al fresco at lakeside watering-holes, enjoying the odd BBQ at home with friends or just pottering about in the garden, me in my lime green Crocs with an ice cold jug of Pimms on the go. I'm really enjoying it and when I can stop my other half thinking about work all the time, so is he.
We've both been working way too hard of late so I've made it my business to take time out every now and then to just enjoy life and make himself do the same, which is a bit of a struggle I can tell you. I felt it was time to stop awhile and think about what I've done, which is precious little really apart from work, work, work, and plan what I want to do in the future. Hence the blog-break. Hopefully, I've come to some sort of arrangement with myself now. It sounds a little sad and maybe a bit defeatist to say that I suppose at some stage you just have to come to terms with the fact that you're probably not going to do all of the things you thought you would, may never reach your full potential or make your mark in life in the way you hoped. That this, in fact, is it. You won't be any sort of high-flyer unless something miraculous happens. You have found your niche, even if you don't think it was the one intended for you, and being reasonably good at a few things should actually be enough. Like growing mint to put in your Pimms and making a bloody great lasagne, or, as in my case, swearing.
And do you know, having come to terms with that I feel a lot better. Striving for something unattainable and knocking yourself out trying to make things happen is very draining. Living for the moment and appreciating what you have right here and now is obviously the way to go in the search for contentment. I'm slightly annoyed that it's taken me this long to understand that, but there you go.
So, unusually for us, on Saturday, we abandoned all our multiple catch-up tasks and drove out to a country pub, ate lunch outside under a shady parasol on the village green, watched cricket for a bit and went home for a sleep in the garden. Later on I watched five recorded episodes of "Desperate Housewives" back to back, ate Cadbury's chocolate, drank tea and admired my freshly painted toe-nails whilst my feet were up on the sofa. Lovely colour by the way, Chanel "Madness" (how apt), looks like blackberries.
No work, no worry, no guilt. That, for me, is one hell of a result and something of an achievement in itself.
It felt so decadent, so good and so about bloody time.
So what's your recipe for contentment then?