We had a mad weekend driving to Kent and back to see friends and family and it was fun, lovely to catch-up with folk, and insightful. These long trips to catch-up with kith and kin are nearly always worth it as we come home having seen how our friends and family live and rekindle the friendships that languish so easily.
We’re just so damn busy these days that it’s hard to keep in touch, and so we resort to social media where we portray the best versions of our lives on terms that mainly suit us. But the connections just aren’t that meaningful or authentic. I’ve started writing letters again to some of my friends and will try to do more of this.
With the half-term holidays coming up I’d had a hankering for finding an art gallery to visit. I miss not living in Edinburgh with galleries on your doorstep and told my friend that if we’d been spending more time with her in Kent, we’d have tried to visit Margate. My friend works in London but hurries home to put her kids to bed and simply doesn’t have the time to go and gaze at art any more. I realised that despite our very different circumstances, we share similar privations, (First World Problems, I know), and so my frustration with living in West Cumbria is assuaged a little, and I’m just a little more determined to go out there and make the most of what we do have here.
bookwormbird 