7: rest

‘Seven days,’ was all she wrote, a kind of ultimatum note…

Seven days. Seven days left! It’s unbelievable how quickly the time has passed/is passing. But deep breaths, calm thoughts as I enter the final week of my 20-something life.

On the seventh day I rested. Not to compare myself with the God of creation. But that is all I did – slept late, ate a massive breakfast, chatted to the girls, saw them all leave one by one, mooched in Hawkshead village, chatted to my parents, ate cake, drank tea, sat and lolloped, caught a train, finished my book (Shirley by Charlotte Bronte – if you like a story that gets to the point, I wouldn’t bother with this one. It took 199 pages before the namesake of the book actually appeared), arrived home and went to bed. I’d like to consider this a valuable training day for the next decade.


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